Massage Therapy
by Gemgirl65
Summary: "I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw her naked back." Therapist by day, musician by night, Edward gets more than he bargained for when indie label scout Bella comes to his firm for treatment. One touch will unravel their secrets...but are they ready?
1. Injury

**A/N: As always, I own nothing-all characters originally created by Stephenie Meyer. I'm just borrowing them to spin my own yarn for awhile.**

**I apologize in advance to any massage therapists, chiropractors or A&R reps who might actually read this story. My knowledge of the afore-mentioned is strictly as someone on the receiving end of your talents. All the research in the world can't replace experience, but I took a stab at accuracy, anyway. I also apologize to any Seattlites, as it will probably be clear to you that I don't know exactly what I'm talking about! All specific places are fictitious, though I did try to place them in a few general areas of Seattle. I'm realizing more and more why the adage "write what you know" exists. **

**Enough of the boring stuff...on with the story. If you like what you read, please let me know. If you have suggestions or questions, let me know those, too. Feedback is appreciated!**

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Monday, July 12**

You won't believe it, Mom - it happened again. I threw my back out.

Of course, I say this as if I didn't help it along in spectacular fashion by doing something so simple, yet so idiotic, that I almost feel like I deserve it. Just when I think my back is fine and I forget to baby it, it reminds me that it will never quite be normal. Just like me, I guess.

Luckily I had some leftover muscle relaxants from the last time, so I was able to get by until today, when I went to see Dr. Cullen. Dad offered to drive down from Forks to take care of me, but I told him it wasn't necessary, since my roomie was more than willing to help. Angela did the grocery shopping and cooking all weekend, and she and Ben tried to keep my spirits up. The drugs knocked me out though, which is just as well. Not being able to stand up straight severely limits the things you can do to entertain yourself. I just laid around like a bum, reading "the usual" when I'm feeling sorry for myself. The Complete Works of Jane Austen is still my favorite gift that you ever gave me, by the way.

Dr. Cullen renewed my prescription and told me to rest another day or two, so I missed work again. Rose seemed okay with it, and told me she just wanted me to be in fighting form by the weekend so I could continue to scout the local music scene for The Next Big Thing. After all, that's what Java Noise (barely) pays me for. Dr. Cullen told me that if I take it easy, I should be able to get back to my normal activities, within reason. You'd like him, Mom. He looks like a movie star, all wavy blond hair, straight white teeth and dimples. If he were closer to my age, I'd probably be half-swooning when I leave his office.

He made an appointment for me to see his son Emmett later this week, after my muscle spasms calm down a little bit. Emmett has a chiropractic office across the hall from his father. If he's as good-looking as his dad, I might very well swoon yet. I'll let you know on Friday after my appointment.

I'd tell you what I did to mess up my back, but honestly, I can't commit it to writing, it's so embarrassing. It's even dumber than the time I seized up after throwing my head back to gargle mouthwash, if you can believe that. What am I saying? Of course you can. There's a reason you didn't name me "Grace." It's hilarious enough that my last name is "Swan."

For right now, I think it's time to suffer in silence. Well, metaphorically speaking. My iPod is already queued up with my favorite melancholy babies to soothe my soul. I'll let you know how everything goes later this week.

Love you, miss you.

_~Bella_

_**Edward's Little Black Notebook**_

**Thursday, July 15**

I saw a girl who looked just like you on the ferry today, Tanya.

I had to do a double take because the resemblance was so uncanny. Same strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, same clear hazel eyes. But then I realized the curve of her mouth was different; her nose a little too long. And then I laughed at myself for even having to look twice, when I know damned well you weren't on that boat this morning.

After the woman caught me staring, she stared back. It was that same, familiar, tiresome stare that most women give me. You used to joke that my vanity was second only to my arrogance, but you know that neither could be further from the truth. I've known I was good-looking since the tenth grade, but not for any reason that the mirror ever proved. The looking glass didn't suddenly reveal anything that I hadn't picked apart or agonized over before puberty claimed me. I still had the same slightly flat, off-kilter nose and crooked smile I'd always had. In fact, those flaws were now being overshadowed by the encroachment of an increasingly shaggy set of eyebrows that had formed a sparse, downy caterpillar over the bridge of my nose. My jaw was beginning to jut from my neck like a geometric figure out of my algebra textbook, and it was starting to sprout prodigious amounts of hair as well. I was pretty well stoked the first time I had to shave, even though I gave myself five toilet-paper nicks in the process.

None of this self-examination at the tender age of fifteen proved that any sort of alluring metamorphosis had occurred. Nevertheless, that was the age when girls suddenly began blushing and giggling and staring up at me from under fluttering eyelashes when they passed my locker at school.

At first I thought it was because I was tall. My summer growth spurt had put me a good head above many of the other boys whose hormones hadn't been as cooperative as mine had. But even after some of them caught up to my six-foot-plus height, I still seemed to be the most frequent target of girls dropping pencils in front of me in order to flaunt their assets while bending over to pick them up.

It took a few years before I grew tired of the obvious girls. Early on, I was easily swayed by a pretty face and a glimpse of cleavage or a curvy thigh. I was especially excited when older girls took an interest in me. Older girls were more experienced…more willing to let my hands explore where they wanted to. I still can't smother the tinge of smugness I feel when I recall losing my virginity to a college girl when I was still a junior in high school. You can imagine how I was the envy of all my high school buddies (and yes, I was that thoughtless and indiscreet at sixteen). There were definite perks to having a good-looking older brother with equally attractive friends. I wonder where that girl is now? Lauren. Blonde and Barbie-doll like, she was incapable of carrying on a decent conversation, but she was a firecracker in the sack. Back then, that was enough. Now I wonder if anything or anyone will be enough.

I can almost hear your bitter reply to that one. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the one standing in the way of my own happiness. I'm just sorry I stood in the way of yours. It's the one thing I can't seem to forgive myself for.

So glad tomorrow is Friday. One more day at Cullen and Cullen and I'm free. I say that as if I don't love my work, when you know I do. Dad would have liked for me to do more with my life than be Emmett's sidekick - at least, I'm sure that's how he sees it. You'd think that as a doctor, he would acknowledge the benefits of massage therapy as much as chiropractics. Then again, I think Dad was disappointed that neither of his sons went into "proper" medicine like he did. At least Emmett's choice gives him a license to put on the wall. Mine does, too, but I can see in Dad's eyes that he thinks it's not worth the piece of paper it's printed on.

Still, he refers patients to us when he thinks they could benefit from our particular skills. There's a new girl coming in tomorrow who needs an adjustment and probably some myofascial work, since an old injury keeps flaring up and giving her problems. It's always amazing to me how perfectly healthy someone can look on the outside, but when I examine the person, there are untold issues lurking just below the surface. The body never lies.

Man, I'm really looking forward to letting off some steam this weekend. I'm doing the open mic night thing tomorrow night at the Java Shack, and Saturday night at Billy's Brew Pub. Jasper and I have been working on a couple of numbers together, so that should be fun. Alice has developed quite the crush on him since she came home from school this summer, so I'm sure she'll be in the audience, making more noise for us than we could possibly deserve. But that's Alice for you. As little sisters go, I definitely lucked out, even though she does drive me crazy sometimes.

Shit, I hate when phrases like that slip out. Sorry. You were never crazy, Tanya. Just lost. We all lose our way. I'm just sorry I couldn't…I wasn't….

I won't go down this road again. It never does any good. I'll let you know how the weekend goes.

_~Edward_


	2. Remedy

_**From the Desk of Bella Swan**_

**Friday, July 16**

Holy Crow, Mom…I think I'm in trouble.

Not the kind you think. I'm fine, really. I think. I'm still too light-headed to know for sure.

No, I'm talking about that nervous-but-excited feeling you get after they strap you into your car on the Space Mountain rollercoaster at Disney World and all the lights suddenly go out. Your stomach drops as the car surges forward and starts to climb, and you can't see a damned thing ahead of you because it's pitch black all around, but you know you'd better hang on tight because you're in for a hell of a ride.

The day started in its usual mundane way. I worked most of it, helping Rose sift through dozens of demos, organizing and filing the ones worth a second listen. She seems to value my opinion more and more, which is pretty cool considering she's been doing this awhile, and I'm just her assistant. She let me leave early so I could go to my doctor's appointment and then come home to rest.

I was kind of nervous going to Cullen and Cullen, PC, because you know what happened the last time I went to one of those sadists operating under the innocuous title of "chiropractor." I couldn't move for days and swore I'd never subject myself to that quackery again. But Dr. Cullen said that chiropractics have made a lot of advances in recent years, and he really thought his son could help me. I guess the x-rays showed that I have several vertebrae out of alignment. (So what else is new?)

Emmett Cullen's office was neat and modern, with simple furnishings in shades of pale gray, blue and cream. The receptionist, Jessica, was bubbly and helpful as I filled out all the requisite patient information. I didn't have time to be nervous, because as soon as I was done with the paperwork, she ushered me down the hall and into a room containing both an electronic massage chair and massage table. She had me lie down on the table, which had a rolling mechanism built underneath its vinyl covering. It worked up and down my back, gently rolling and vibrating from neck to tailbone in order to loosen up my muscles. I was actually starting to relax a bit by the time the timer went off, and Jessica returned to escort me to the exam room.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen's son came in after a couple of minutes, and he put my fears to rest right away with his easy smile. You always told me the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and he's living proof. He's at least as handsome as his father, with curly hair the color of burnished walnut and eyes like the sky over Puget Sound on a sunny day. Still, I began to quake nervously as I took in his tall, hulking form-he's built like a brick shithouse. I wasn't sure I wanted this guy anywhere near my precarious spine, no matter how nice he was.

He picked up my patient form and studied it for a moment.

"Isabella Swan," he said, his eyes twinkling pleasantly as he glanced up at me.

"Just 'Bella' is fine, Dr. Cullen," I quickly corrected him.

"Okay then, Bella. You can call me Emmett," he grinned amiably. "It looks like you've been having some problems with a recurring injury. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

_No, I really wouldn't, _I thought with chagrin. "I was bent over, doing some housecleaning, and it just seized up," I offered lamely. There. I essentially told him the truth.

Emmett clucked his tongue and launched into a warning about the evils of twisting and turning with the vacuum cleaner, like I haven't heard that a dozen times before. I promised him I'd be more careful in the future.

He had me stand up after that so that he could check the alignment of my hips and spine. He made me walk a little so he could assess my gait. He never even asked me to remove any clothes - he said he could easily see what my "issues" were, and that it would probably take a series of minor adjustments to get me back to "normal." I tried not to laugh snidely at the word. He said he wanted to work on me gradually so as not to cause any further trauma to my back while it was healing from the last bout of muscle spasms. I'm glad that my insurance will cover the visits, since it sounds like this could take awhile.

He had me stand on a metal plate attached to the foot of a vertical hydraulic table, which slowly began to wheeze and grind as it lowered me, face-down, to a horizontal position. He checked the alignment of my feet and ankles, and then began working gently but firmly on my lower back, pressing and pushing my tailbone into the place it ought to be. He repeated the maneuvers up my back, adjusting me where necessary; and the hydraulic table gave way beneath me with a loud _ker-rang _in response each time Dr. Cullen pressed sharply on my back. He also pushed his thumb, hard, into various pressure points up and down my hips and back, seeming to will my muscles and nerves to give way where they were tight. The adjustments were merely uncomfortable - nothing like my last chiropractic experience, and most certainly nothing as painful as the pinched nerve that laid me low last weekend. I was pleasantly surprised at how gentle Emmett Cullen was, considering his size.

"There. That wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked expectantly as he set the table in motion to return me to an upright position. He looked pretty confident that I'd tell him it wasn't, so I merely shook my head in agreement as I stepped back off the metal plate.

He had me walk around a bit, studying my movements and asking if I was okay. I nodded and told him I felt pretty good, surprisingly enough.

He smiled in a rather self-satisfied way and continued, "I really think you could benefit from myofascial release therapy in addition to chiropractics. Do you have time yet this afternoon for a treatment?"

I gave him a puzzled look and repeated, "My-oh-what-all?"

He laughed and explained that "myofascial release" is just a fancy name for a gentle form of deep tissue and muscle massage designed to help relieve chronic or recurring pain like I have. I told him I'd try anything that might keep last weekend's fiasco from happening again, so he led me down the hall to another room.

This room was entirely different from the austere exam area. A dark antique desk supported a single ornate amber lamp, which bathed the room in an ambient glow. A large massage table commanded the center of the room, and consisted of a thick flannel-covered mattress with a matching sheet over the top. At the far end, a padded donut-shaped protrusion provided a place to rest one's face, and underneath it sat a wheeled stool. The faint sounds of ocean waves permeated the room, and I soon saw that an iPod and docking station were situated at the other end of the desk. I almost giggled at the cheesiness of a sound machine cranking fake beach noises into the air, but I had to admit that the room had a much more tranquil, soothing aura than the clinical exam room I'd just left.

"You'll need to undress to your underwear, then lie face-down on the table. There's a small pillow there that you can rest under your hips if you need it. I don't want you arching your lower back and pinching that nerve again," Emmett warned.

I nodded in response, biting my lip in apprehension. I'd never had a professional massage before, especially from such a handsome guy. The only time my college boyfriend Mike had ever rubbed my back was when he was trying to get me to have sex with him. After I gave in, the massages stopped.

"Don't worry, Bella," Emmett assured me, apparently sensing my uneasiness. "I think you'll find it very relaxing and helpful for your condition. I'll leave you to get ready."

He gave me the easy smile again and I tried to return it. When the door closed behind him, I looked around the room. There was a wicker chair next to the desk, and on the other side, a small end table with a bouquet of fresh flowers and a rather elegant goblet of water. I undressed and laid my jeans and t-shirt on the chair, then stood deliberating about my bra. Surely I would need to remove it if he was going to work on my back, right? I bit my lip again, then shrugged out of my barely-B-cups, figuring that there wasn't much to see anyway.

I crawled carefully onto the raised massage table, positioning the pillow under my abdomen to help support my back before I lowered myself slowly down. I pulled the sheet up over my rump, rested my chin on my hands and waited. The rhythmic repetition of the ocean tide coming from the iPod filled my ears, and I concentrated on slowing the rapid thumping of my heart to match it.

There was a gentle knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening a crack.

"Are you ready, Miss Swan?"

"Sure, come on in," I replied, my voice oddly high-pitched. I pulled the sheet up over my back a little. Why did I suddenly feel shy? Even more shy than usual. Lord knows my non-existent boobs were well concealed beneath me.

I heard the door close behind me and soft-soled footsteps approached. I caught a glimpse of white lab coat and charcoal slacks out of the corner of my eye as he hovered near my waist.

"Are you comfortable lying on your stomach, Miss Swan?" his low, velvety voice met my ears. A shiver ran down my spine at the intimate sound of it in this cozy, dimly lit room. _Wow, this must be Emmett's soothing Masseur Voice_, I thought. _And what's with the formality all of a sudden-'Miss Swan?' _

"I'm fine," I assured him, settling my face into the donut hole at the head of the table. At least I could breathe through this, which was more than could be said about the two thick pads on the chiropractic table that had squashed my nose and mouth through a narrow vertical opening. "The pillow under my stomach is helping."

"That's good," he replied in the molasses tone. "If at any time you begin to feel stress or pain around your injury, I want you to tell me immediately. I can easily treat you while you lie on your back instead."

"Okay," I agreed, letting my arms relax over the end of the table and placing my hands on the round stool beneath. The sound machine continued to evoke a day at the beach, the swooshing sound of the waves beginning to relax me in spite of my trepidation.

"I'm going to begin by checking you over to get a general feel for how your muscles and tissues are behaving. Then I'll begin working on any problem areas I find," he said softly.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure my entire back is misbehaving like a naughty schoolgirl," I mumbled through the donut hole. His answering chuckle was warm and husky. It was amazing how much sexier he sounded in the womb-like room, accompanied by the soothing sea sounds.

"Well, let's find out, shall we?" he said, the sound of a smile lingering in his voice.

And then, his warm fingers were on me, slowly working over my shoulder blades and up toward my neck. Whoa…his touch was as silken as his Masseur Voice. Tiny shivers traveled unbidden down my spine as he slowly pushed at my flesh, examining every muscle and bone with gentle but thorough probing as he worked his way down my back. By the time reached my tender tailbone, I could feel several erogenous zones beginning to stir and awaken within me. Holy crap… he hadn't even started the actual massage yet.

"Are you cold? I can raise the temperature in the room if you like," he offered.

"No, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You have goose bumps," he answered simply. Geezus. What was I supposed to say to that? I was pretty sure this myo-whatever therapy was supposed to relax me, not turn me on.

"This is my first massage," I answered in muffled explanation. It was a little difficult to talk with my face squished through the donut hole.

"Well, what I'm going to do today is very different from what people think of as traditional massage," he began. He walked around to the head of the table so that he was standing in front of me. All I could see was the bottom of his white coat, his long gray slacks and black suede shoes. _Suede in July? _Huh. I hadn't noticed that before. And then his firm, long fingers were on my neck, and all thought stopped.

"Myofascial release is designed to loosen the constricted tissues and muscles that are pulling your spine out of alignment," he explained, his hands trailing as slow as tree sap over the base of my neck. They were heading in different directions…one hand pulling up to the right, the other pushing down to the left. The feeling was…odd.

"'Myo' stands for 'muscle'; 'fascial' pertains to the fascia," he went on in the velvet voice. "The fascia are the connective tissues surrounding every organ, muscle and bone in your body. They run in 'sheets' from head to toe, and when they're healthy, they slide easily over one another and around your body parts to allow you freedom of movement."

His fingers were moving up into my hair now at the base of my neck, inexorably yet gently pulling, pulling, pulling…while his other hand continued to gently push, push, push in opposition. I began to feel as if my head was being twisted in a circle, even though my face was still stuck straight ahead, peering at his shoelaces out of the donut hole. One of the laces had come undone.

"The fascia are made up of millions of tiny collagen and elastin fibers, much like a sponge. When they become constricted by repetitive stress - or, in your case, injury - they can compress, twist and harden," he explained in dulcet tones. How the heck was he making a boring anatomy lesson sound so… erotic? "The distorted fascial tissue can constrict the muscles and keep them from working to their full capacity. Imagine if your muscles were tightly bound in cellophane, and were struggling to do their job in spite of it," he offered by way of example.

"Wow," was all I could manage. Though he was still working on my neck, my head was spinning, and I could feel a pulling sensation through my back and chest. "Why do I feel this in so many places other than where you're working?" I asked him, slightly incredulous. It was as if parts of my body I didn't even know existed were stirring to life beneath his expert touch.

"Because the fascia stretch in contiguous networks from the top of your head to the tip of your toes," he repeated gently, sounding slightly as if he were explaining how to add one plus one to a first-grader. "Your lower back problem actually stems partly from right here-your neck, shoulders and chest." He moved his magic fingers down over my shoulders as he spoke, pulling gently upward. I could feel it in my chest in the front, and my shoulder blades in the back. Even my jaws were affected by the gentle pressure of his hands on my skin.

"That's amazing," I mumbled. I was beginning to succumb to the inexorable pull of his hands and the hypnotic tenor of his voice. The ocean sounds from the iPod were slowly morphing into an exotic Eastern melody, lulling me into a trance. I said nothing more as he moved to the side of the table, his hands working their way slowly down my back, gently and then more firmly massaging my tender flesh. I could sense myself expanding like taffy under the masterful manipulation of his fingers. I literally felt the pull throughout my torso and legs, and all skepticism about this myo-fantastical stuff faded from my increasingly calm mind. He was right about the tissues being connected from head to toe. His hands never left my back, but every other part of my body vibrated in response to the stimulation. I felt like a violin or cello, strings reverberating and resonating deeply under his expert ministrations. I was his instrument, and he played me like a maestro. Who knew that deceptively easy-going Emmett Cullen had such sensual skills lurking within him? Or that my body would become a symphony in response?

I was still trying to absorb the sensations flowing through me when he finally broke my silent reverie.

"So, Miss Swan…would you like to tell me how you injured yourself last weekend?" he murmured as his hands moved closer to the danger zone, my tailbone.

Ugh, he just wasn't going to let this go, was he? I don't know whether it was due to my deeply relaxed state or my inborn aversion to lying, but I decided I might as well tell the truth.

"I was trying to change our toilet seat," I admitted sheepishly through the donut hole.

Silence. He was probably trying like hell to hold in his hilarity.

Finally, he spoke. "Would you care to elaborate?"

I sighed in resignation. "I just moved into a new apartment with my best friend, Angela. It's kind of an old two-story gingerbread house with these prehistoric appliances and porcelain sinks and tubs. Well, the toilet-seat was all chipped and cracked, and I kept thinking we needed a new one. So when Jacob Black finally asked me out, I decided that it was time for an upgrade. You know, in case he needed to use the bathroom or something…I didn't want to be embarrassed." _Too late, Swan, _I thought as my cheeks grew hot. I was glad my face was exposed only to Emmett Cullen's suede-covered feet.

"Ah. You must like this Jacob then, if he warrants a new toilet seat." His voice was brimming with barely-concealed mirth.

"Well, I thought I did. But he hasn't called me since I cancelled our date after my back went out. He probably doesn't believe me," I sighed.

"That's his loss then, clearly," Emmett replied in a Silken Sex Voice. Another involuntary shiver shot through me. He ignored my goose bumps and continued, "But that still doesn't explain how you threw your back out. What did you do? Toilet seat replacement is generally a pretty easy task."

"Well, it is if you know what you're doing," I agreed. I paused for a moment while he pushed gently, then more firmly, at the edge of my ribcage under my armpits. _Wow…I'm really tight there. Hmmm. _

I cleared my head and continued. "I've never replaced one before. I unscrewed those giant plastic bolts from the top of the old toilet seat with a screw-driver, but I neglected to check under the porcelain to see that there were nuts screwed onto the backside. I couldn't figure out why the bolts wouldn't come out, and I got frustrated and started yanking on the toilet seat, trying to pull it out…not knowing that a huge pair of nuts underneath were keeping it hooked into the stool," I admitted guiltily. And there it was…my ignorance and stupidity on display, in the womb room with the hot chiropractor and his magic hands.

"Ah," he responded in understanding. "A huge pair of nuts can definitely be hard to handle." The humor in his voice was unmistakable now, and I could just picture his mirthful blue eyes crinkling in accompaniment.

My face burned with humiliation when I realized my gaffe. As if my story wasn't mortifying enough, I had to go and add some unintended sexual innuendo to the mix.

"Ha-ha," I replied dismally, thankful that it was impossible for Emmett to see the embarrassment etched in pink across my cheeks.

He let out a blessedly short laugh. "In all seriousness, I'm glad you told me what happened," he said soberly. "It explains a lot of what's going on here. You stressed your upper back too much by bending over and pulling too hard, until your weak spot, down here-" he fingered my tailbone briefly, making me gasp-"finally gave out. And I'm sure all that screwing - I mean, _un_screwing - beforehand didn't help."

_Oh no, he did NOT just go there! _My face had to be ten shades of scarlet by now.

"Thanks for the recap," I grumbled.

"Sorry," he said with another chuckle. "You just made that one way too easy."

"I know. Trust me, you don't need to remind me what an idiot I am. When I realized that all I had to do remove the nuts under the seat, I wanted to kick myself. I mean, how dumb can a person be? Don't answer that," I finished with a mutter.

He laughed softly. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Your body already did that for you. Just concentrate on healing now." When he ordered this in the buttery Massage Voice, with the ethereal, now-Celtic-inspired music pouring from the iPod in accompaniment, I obeyed without question. His hands were working along my spine now, and it felt as if he was reaching right inside me and stretching my muscles like warm Silly Putty. His fingers were a panacea to my pain, and I relaxed completely under his touch. I was beginning to believe that if anyone could heal me, he could.

Between the music and the magic fingers, I was falling into a kind of numb stupor. It felt like he was unwinding years of twisted tension from my back as he worked… releasing years of pent-up pain. Part of me never wanted him to stop. The other part began to feel a vague unease as prickles started to swirl along part of my spine. He had judiciously avoided my lower back, but I began to feel a tautness there, and queasiness spread through my belly. My face felt hot and clammy, and I was considering warning him that I needed to get it out of this donut hole, and soon.

Emmett's intuition must have kicked in, because he announced, "I think that's enough for this session. It's been an hour already. You've done extremely well, Miss Swan." He ran his hands gently up my back and down again, sending another wave of goose bumps through my skin. He pulled the sheet up over my back and added, "I'll give you a few minutes to get dressed, and then I'll be back to discuss your prognosis and treatment. Can you get up by yourself, or do you need some help?"

I shook my head vigorously and insisted I could do it myself. No way was I letting him see my boobs, even if he was technically a doctor. I waited until I heard the door close, then slowly pulled myself up into a kneeling position. My head spun dangerously for a moment and my stomach lurched. What the hell did he do to me?

I took a few deep breaths and turned my body to the side, gingerly lowering one foot to the floor, then the other. Whoa… head rush. Another wave of nausea followed. I gripped the mattress for a moment, then staggered to the wicker chair and sat down. I took several deep breaths and grabbed the crystal water goblet, downing half the contents in big, greedy gulps. I sat still for several minutes, breathing deeply. Once I began to get my bearings, I dressed as quickly as possible, then sat down and finished the glass of water. I wasn't so sure about this myo-what's-it-called anymore. Was it supposed to make me feel this discombobulated?

A tap at the door met my foggy ears, followed by the unmistakable Sex Voice. "Are you decent, Miss Swan?"

I would have made a joke about being quite indecent when the occasion warranted it, but I felt too sick. "Yeah, come in," I conceded.

He opened the door and made his way around the massage table, pulling out the desk chair and spinning it around to face me. As he sat down, I looked up into the concerned face of a man who was unequivocally - and quite startlingly - NOT Emmett Cullen.

I gaped at him, stunned, as my addled brain tried to work out what was going on here. I felt like the poster child for "Dazed and Confused."

"Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale," he said worriedly. His voice was unmistakably the same honey-tongued Masseur Voice that had seduced my ears for the past hour. But his appearance was nothing like Emmett Cullen's. In fact, the only characteristic he shared with the chiropractor was his superior height. But where Emmett's face was all-American boyish charm, this man's was hauntingly handsome, his chiseled bones and commanding brows incongruously contained beneath a pair of elegant, rectangular wire-rimmed glasses. The big eyes lurking behind those lenses were a luminous, anxious green as they bored into mine. His dirty-brown mane of hair was resplendent with reddish-gold sun streaks. As he ran his hand nervously through it, cowlicks stood up in leonine defiance of the starched white collar encircling his neck below. The five-o'clock shadow overtaking his square jaw was in on the hirsute coup as well, giving him the overall appearance of a barely-tamed lion, pacing in anticipation of being released from its cage.

He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever seen.

"Who are you?" I finally managed to croak in bewilderment.

His eyes grew round, and his thick eyebrows arched upward in surprise before furrowing in dismay. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I'm Edward Cullen… the massage therapist who just worked on you." He sounded a bit like he was talking to a first-grader again. "Are you okay, Miss Swan? You really do look a little green around the gills."

_Edward _Cullen? Had I lost my mind? "Where's Emmett?" I wondered weakly. Had I made him up? I was so light-headed that I was beginning to think anything was possible, including the notion that I might actually be delusional.

"He's treating another patient," the gorgeous stranger replied. "He's the chiropractor, I'm the massage therapist - the other Cullen in 'Cullen and Cullen, PC.' Didn't he explain that to you? He told me he had prepped you beforehand." A tiny bit of anger, or at least irritation, had crept into his tone.

I frowned and rubbed my forehead, trying to absorb what this Edward Cullen was telling me. "He explained all about the my-oh-whatever-you-call-it treatment… but I just assumed he'd be the one doing it," I said woozily. "I thought the two Cullens were Carlisle and Emmett."

The caged lion shook his tousled locks, his flawless face darkening. Yep, he was definitely angry now. "I can't believe he didn't tell you - and then I didn't even introduce myself…." His muttering dissolved into a short string of expletives mumbled under his breath, reminding me of Yosemite Sam on those old Looney Tunes re-runs that I loved when I was a kid. Well, a really hot, tall Yosemite Sam.

The lion pushed his glasses up his nose and composed himself. "I am so sorry, Miss Swan. That was completely unprofessional of both me and my brother. I hope it won't keep you from coming back to see us again, because I really think I can help you."

_Brother, eh? Interesting. _"You mean you can keep this from happening again?" I asked him in disbelief. I had stopped daring to think that I could live my life pain-free.

He nodded confidently. "Your body responded very well to the treatment," he began. _Oh, you have no idea, Edward Cullen. _"I was able to make a lot of progress today, but getting you where you need to be won't happen overnight. Your muscles and fascia have 'memory,' so to speak, and they'll want to go back to what they're used to doing, even if it's not the most efficient way for your body to run smoothly. We need to re-train your body so that it wants to do what's healthiest for you. If you're willing to do the work and see me on a regular basis, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the results."

I simply gazed at him and nodded feebly. _He wants to see me regularly. _That sounded too good to be true, but I was definitely on board. Anything that would bring me in proximity of his handsome face and masterful hands was already at the top of my list of priorities.

_He wants to re-train my body. _That sounded… intriguing. And far too titillating. I was reasonably sure I would be putty in his hands, no matter what he wanted to do to me.

_He thinks he can fix me. _That sounded… impossible. No one had been able to accomplish that since that fateful day six years ago. I desperately wanted to believe that he might be The One who could do this, more than he could ever know.

"So what do I need to do?"

"I'd like to see you this time every week, if possible. If you can't get off work, I can see you on Saturday mornings. And if your insurance won't pay for it, we might be able to classify this as a chiropractic appointment since those are usually covered. I'm sure you'll need to see Emmett a few more times anyway," he said with a lopsided grin.

Wow…he was willing to see me on weekends, and fudge insurance claims for me? Why would he go out of his way to help me like this? I gawked at him, dumbfounded. It almost felt like I'd won the lottery. What was the catch?

"Well, I'll talk to my boss about the schedule and see what she says," I answered. "I can't believe you'd see me on weekends - that's really above and beyond." My cheeks grew warm as I smiled shyly up at him. He was so beautiful, I was almost able to ignore the nausea that still gnawed at the edges of my belly.

"I see several clients on Saturdays. I usually take an afternoon off during the week in exchange," he informed me, and my face went from warm to hot in humiliation.

"Of course," I mumbled.

"Why don't I schedule an appointment for next Saturday, and in the meantime, you can talk to your boss," he suggested helpfully. I nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, he reached out to me, and I felt the back of his hand on my forehead. I gasped in surprise at the contact of his warm skin on mine.

"Miss Swan, your skin is very pale and clammy. Do you feel ill?" he asked again, more insistently this time. Weird…I felt more flushed than anything. His hand brushed my cheek briefly, his fingers threading ever so lightly through my hair and sweeping it back from my face before he rested his hand back on his thigh. Tremors shook me in response to this most gentle of gestures. I was beginning to wonder at the power he seemed to have over me in so short a time.

I nodded finally in answer to his question, this time feeling guilty for some reason. "I got kind of queasy and light-headed toward the end of the massage," I admitted. "I still feel a little…strange."

Edward frowned at me, his pink lips pursed and green eyes scolding. "If you ever feel at all uncomfortable, you need to tell me immediately, do you understand?" he asked sternly.

I nodded yet again, sufficiently chastised by his concerned yet commanding tone. He sighed a bit and ran his hand through his thick hair again. I could already tell that I would be mesmerized continually by this simple act, no matter how habitually he repeated it.

"The last area I was working on was very close to your lymphatic system," he explained. "Everything is attached to the spine, as I'm sure you know. You have a very pronounced twist throughout your torso, and it's going to take some time to unwind it. I know that sounds strange, but that's essentially what I was doing…loosening the tissues that are bound and twisted throughout your back. In doing that, I also stimulated your lymphatic system, which helps your body eliminate a lot of toxins. That's probably why you're nauseous and dizzy now - I basically just stirred up your entire immune system. The next time you even begin to feel this way, you have to tell me so I can stop before it gets to this point. Do you understand me?"

Ugh, again with the grade school talk. "Yes," I promised. "Don't worry, I'd prefer not to feel like this again if at all possible."

He sighed again and rose from his seat, announcing that he was going to get me another glass of water. When he returned, I gratefully gulped down the cool liquid as he advised me to drink plenty of fluids when I got home, and to make some peppermint tea to help settle my stomach. He also gave me a list of things he wanted me to do in the coming week, including some simple exercises to stretch my back and chest, and vitamin and dietary supplements to take. He sounded annoyingly like every doctor I'd ever had by the end of his spiel.

I felt a lot better after my second glass of water, and when I finally got up, I was much steadier on my feet. I looked up at Edward Cullen and realized just how tall he really was - definitely over six feet, towering over my tiny 5'5" frame. His build was lean, the opposite of his sturdy brother; and his torso seemed to go on forever before it reached his legs.

"I made an appointment for you next Saturday at ten a.m., if that will work," he smiled, his eyebrows raising questioningly. "And this time you'll be lying on your back, so you shouldn't get nauseous," he assured me.

"Ten o'clock? That's fine," I agreed. _How the heck will he work on my back if I'm lying on it?_ I wondered. Surely he wouldn't be massaging my front, would he? Holy crow. There'd be no way to relax with him touching me like that. And then looking up at his stunning face hovering over me while he's doing it…? I'll be toast. Plain and simple.

Edward escorted me to the front door, probably still afraid that I might keel over at any moment. Emmett appeared shortly after, apologizing profusely for failing to properly explain how things work at Cullen and Cullen. The brothers glared at each other for a moment, though they tried to hide it with smooth smiles at me afterward. I was pretty sure an argument would be breaking out about thirty seconds after I was out the door and no longer within earshot. Even though I'm an only child, I can imagine how those love/hate sibling relationships probably work.

I came home and made some peppermint tea like Edward suggested, and it did help me feel better. He told me I'd have some soreness, and I do; but what's odd is that it keeps moving around to various parts of my body. My upper back was achy for about thirty minutes, but then it moved down a bit, and suddenly the right side of my leg was throbbing for awhile. I have to admit that this total-body connection thing must be the real deal. I've never felt so many odd sensations making their way through so many parts of my body before.

But the best development by far is this: for the first time since that horrible day, I feel _hope_. I'd pretty much given up on that. But the thought of the Cullens, and what they might be able to do for me, makes me more excited than I've felt about anything in a long time. I'm a little afraid to expect too much, of course. I'm trying not to expect anything at all. I figure that even if he can't help me, at least the scenery will be lovely while he's trying.

You can't imagine what Edward looks like, Mom. He looks like a man from another era. I keep picturing him as my favorite anti-hero, Heathcliff, riding a stallion on the wily, windy English moors; his unkempt hair, rugged jaw and pink cheeks like poetry in motion as he gazes intensely at his lover and riding companion, Catherine. Or rather, Isabella, since this is my fantasy.

And that's why I think I'm in trouble. I'm in danger of falling for my massage therapist. Hard. Why does that sound so tawdry? Hmmm, maybe because I'm paying the guy to touch me all over?

I'm going to stop over-thinking this right now. Que sera, sera, etc. Angela is out renting us some movies and Ben's coming over tonight, so I'm going to relax with a big bowl of popcorn and several hours of TV escapism. I need to take it easy so I feel okay tomorrow night. Ange agreed to come with me to Billy's Brew Pub while I check out the yahoos playing on open mic night. A lot of times there's no one a cut above what you'd hear in your average karaoke bar, but occasionally you can find some real diamonds in the rough at these things. I admire anyone who can get up onstage with only a guitar to hide behind and just let it all hang out. I gave up on the idea of being able to do it myself a long time ago. I know what you must think about that, Mom. But at least I can still enjoy that talent in other people when I hear it. And with Rose's help, sometimes they can go on to do great things. I like to think that I might have a hand in someone else's success and happiness someday. It helps lessen the pain of what might have been, you know?

Wish me luck with everything, Mom. I'll let you know how it goes.

Love,

_Bella_


	3. Breach

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, July 17, 2010**

I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw her naked back.

It wasn't so much that she was young and slender - I do have a few clients like that, especially the ones with expendable incomes who like to pamper themselves. No, it was the color of her skin that was remarkable: pale, perfect porcelain…in the middle of July. I thought of you right away, Tanya. You always marched to the beat of your own drummer and never cared about fitting in. At least, it seemed that way on the surface. Maybe I never cared to look any deeper than that. But that free spirit still attracts me, and I felt it immediately, emanating from this girl in nearly-palpable waves.

I looked at my client's chart, trying in vain to read Emmett's careless scrawl. He and Dad had filled me in briefly on her history - she had been involved in a car accident six years ago that had given her whiplash and some disc compression. She had recovered well enough, but occasionally a pinched nerve would send her back into painful spasms until prescription meds and a few days' rest calmed the stressed muscles into a semblance of normalcy. Dad's X-rays showed several vertebrae and even a couple of ribs out of alignment, and Emmett had just performed some adjustments on her spine. But I knew that her bones were just one part of the entire picture. I suspected that when I touched her, I would feel a cacophony of abnormalities crying for help below the deceptively placid surface of her creamy skin.

I tried not to let my eyes stray to the wicker chair where I knew her clothes would be resting, but I couldn't help it. You can tell a lot about people by the way they take care of their things. If the clothes are neatly folded and stacked, their wearer is most likely very particular and anal-retentive about life in general. A person like that often has muscles as tight as a drum, hard to manipulate. When people toss their clothes in a careless heap on the chair, they're usually the spontaneous, head-strong type who probably did something foolish to injure themselves, and a few treatments will get their willing muscles back on track. Habits usually reflect a lot about a person.

Isabella Marie Swan's clothes were folded, but rather sloppily, perhaps absent-mindedly. A faded concert t-shirt - featuring a band I'd always liked - rested diagonally over a pair of well-worn jeans, and both were crowned by a sensible, yet somehow still sexy, mauve-colored bra. Why are bras always hot? It doesn't matter what color or style or size they are. It's more about their purpose-what they've just been doing, moments ago, before they were either folded carefully or dropped unceremoniously on my wicker chair.

So, apparently Isabella Swan split the difference between fuss budget and slob. Examining her would be the only way to determine what was really going on inside her. My eyes drifted back to the expanse of snow-white skin on the table before me, and several inappropriate thoughts flitted through my head before I squashed them back into my subconscious. It isn't often-if ever, now that I think about it-that I'm entranced with the mere sight of a client's backside.

So what did this girl go and do two minutes into our conversation? She made a joke about her back "misbehaving like a naughty schoolgirl." Do women not know what that sort of imagery can do to even the most mature, adult male? And Lord knows I feel far from that sometimes, even if I did hit the quarter-century mark last month. I even replied with a couple of off-color jokes in return, which couldn't have been more inappropriate under the circumstances. They seemed to slip from my lips without warning, as though she had somehow pulled them from my subconscious by an invisible string.

Some days this job is definitely more challenging than others.

And unfortunately, in this case, it was challenging for reasons more serious than an unwelcome attraction to my client. I was right about my initial suspicion: the girl's insides were in turmoil. Knot after knot, twist after twist, met my fingertips when I explored her back. I had never felt anything like this in someone so young. It usually took at least half a lifetime of bad habits, minor injuries and repetitive stresses on the body to escalate into a situation like this. It was no wonder her back kept giving out on her. It was trying so hard to compensate for its shortcomings that it simply gave up every now and then.

I went through my methodical explanations of what myofascial release entailed as I began at the top, working with the tissues around the base of her skull. I didn't tell her how much work there was to do, or how much time it might take to undo the damage that this long-ago accident had caused. I didn't want to discourage her right away. The truth was, I wasn't sure how much I could help her. After I loosened her neck sufficiently, I moved down to her shoulder blades; and when I felt how tightly bound she was on one side, I had the feeling that as soon as I loosened that area, a corresponding place elsewhere might only pull more tightly in response.

But then, once I got her talking, her body began to relax more. She admitted the silly thing she'd done to mess up her back this time, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. I kept picturing her wrestling with a toilet seat that she had neglected to fully unscrew from its porcelain base, and I could just envision her impatience and frustration.

I was dying to know what she looked like. Why hadn't I said something to make her look up at me? As it was, all I knew of her was her silken ivory flesh and long chestnut hair, draped to one side and hanging in shiny waves over the edge of the table. It felt like satin under my fingertips when I massaged her neck. I imagined that she had freckles and pink cheeks. I was itching to see her face when our hour was up.

As I worked on her back, I knew that I was a goner anyway, no matter what she looked like. The story her body was telling me already had me hooked. I'd had enough experience by now to know that in cases like hers, the emotional component was at least as much of an issue as the physical one. Spiral after spiral of twisted flesh like she possessed was a symptom of much more going on inside her. I became convinced there was something she was hiding…something her body was desperately trying to keep protected deep within. I wanted to be the one to unlock her demons and set her free.

People like her are the reason I became a massage therapist. I love the feeling of making the tension leave someone's body…gently, persistently forcing the tissues to release their stranglehold and return to the proper function they were made for. Maybe it's a God complex of some kind; maybe it's more specific than that. Maybe I want to make up for the things I couldn't change in the past by changing the ones I can in the present. I've always suspected that the therapy I perform on others is really therapy for me. Sometimes I wonder how many people I have to fix to make up for the way I failed you, Tanya. Maybe it's not about quantity. Maybe it's about how much my client needs me.

And whether she knows it or not, Isabella Swan needs me. Desperately.

I was beginning to make some progress with her by the time our hour was up. I almost hated to stop, because her body was responding much more readily to my hands now. But I knew that she could only take so much at one time, and she would require a series of treatments to see lasting results. I'll have to be patient. Normally that's not such a big deal for me, but for some reason, I am more intrigued with Isabella Swan than I have been with a client in a long time. It feels like she came to me for a reason.

My stomach was actually fluttering with nervousness when I went back into the massage room after she had dressed. I wanted to put a face with the body that I was already beginning to know intimately, and would eventually know better after a few more treatments.

I discovered that all my instincts had been right when I sat down opposite her and looked into her eyes. They were like two rich dollops of Hershey's syrup glistening at me from atop her creamy skin. They were beautiful… and they were haunted.

But then, quite suddenly, they were shocked, confused… maybe even afraid. I soon found out why: she had no idea who the hell I was.

I couldn't believe that bonehead I call a brother had neglected to inform her that he wouldn't be performing her massage, and that some stranger was about to walk in the door and rub his hands all over her. I was more appalled at the fact that I hadn't even thought to introduce myself properly in the first place, regardless of what Emmett had or hadn't done. What the hell was I thinking? Apparently my gonads were in such a bunch over the curve of her ass under that blanket that I had stopped thinking rationally altogether. I couldn't keep from cursing the hell out of myself under my breath, adding more fuel to the completely unprofessional fire that burned through my cheeks.

By the time I got myself together and looked back at her lovely face, she was staring at me like I had three heads. Having two was bad enough, especially when the little one started dictating what the big one was doing. It didn't help that I was now noticing other enticing things about her besides her huge chocolate eyes. Her features were quietly pretty…delicate in a way that didn't shout, and didn't need to. That included the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, which made me grin inwardly in satisfaction.

But the post-massage flush of improved blood circulation that should have been glowing in her cheeks and lips was conspicuously absent. In fact, her coloring was much more like that of someone who'd just eaten some bad fish. She looked similar to a lot of the drunken girls I'd taken home from college frat parties in hopes of getting some, only to spend the evening holding their hair back while they ralphed repeatedly in the toilet.

I knew I shouldn't be so forward, but I couldn't help myself-I put the back of my hand against her forehead, and her cool, damp skin gave her away. She was not well. My fingers ignored this fact, boldly brushing against her cheek and combing through her silky hair before I reined them in and forced my hand back to my lap_. God help me, I am playing with fire, _I thought. _I can't afford for either of us to get burned._

She finally admitted that she had started to feel queasy during the massage, and I wanted to shake her for not telling me right away. I'd obviously stirred up all sorts of toxins in her body and it was telling her that she had had enough; but she was so unaccustomed to listening to it that she ignored it completely. I see this kind of thing all the time. I was struck again with the desire to help this girl, to make her whole again. I want to see the color back in her cheeks, and feel harmony flowing through her body instead of discord.

If I'm being completely honest, the truth is, I just want to see her again. Period.

I got her some more water and told her all the things she needed to do to help herself before the next treatment. I made an appointment for her in a week, and she seemed eager to come back again. Her face was hesitant but hopeful when I told her that I thought I could help her. Something in her eyes struck a chord deep inside me… I can't even explain what it was, exactly. But I felt something very profound in that moment. I sensed a quiet desperation lurking deep within her. I don't want to let her down. I want to keep the promises I made to her.

As soon as she left, I laid into Emmett but good.

"What the hell were you thinking, not telling her that you aren't the massage therapist?" I demanded. "You should have seen the look on her face when I walked back in there. She went through the whole massage not knowing it was me who performed it. She probably feels completely violated."

"Dad told me he had filled her in-I thought she knew!" he exclaimed in his usual clueless, what-who-me? manner. "You're the moron who just started feeling her up without so much as a how-do-you-do first."

I bristled at Emmett's cavalier description of what I do. Sometimes it seems like Emmett and Dad are in cahoots with the continual Rodney Dangerfield treatment of my chosen profession. They have no respect for it, or me. Sympathy, maybe, but not respect. I don't know which is worse: having them feel sorry for me because of what happened, or having them think I'm a fuck-up because of how I dealt with it. The worst part is when I start blaming you, Tanya. I try like hell not to do that. I try even harder not to blame myself, though that's not as easily done. Is that why you did it? To punish me? I know that's not all it was about, but some days it feels like it is.

"Well, no thanks to you, she's coming back for more work next weekend," I grumbled to my thoughtless brother. "I think I can help her, a lot more than you or dad can."

Emmett gave me the requisite eye roll and "Yeah, yeah," before heading to his office to finish up his paperwork for the day. I went back to the massage room to strip the bedding off the table and throw it in with the week's laundry. I guiltily raised the flannel sheets to my face, breathing in to see if Isabella Swan's scent still lingered. I couldn't be sure if it was anything more than the fragrance of fabric softener, but it smelled lovely, like she was. A strange prickle traveled down my spine at the thought of her. Why, I don't know. There's something about that girl that draws me... I want to figure out what it is.

I gathered up the laundry bag of sheets and towels and headed out for the day without a glance or word to my brother. He still yelled after me, "I'll see you at Java tonight!" I had to chuckle despite our recent squabble. Nothing would keep my brother and sister from coming to see me perform, and as much as they both irritate me from time to time, deep down I'm grateful for my family. They keep me going during the hard times more than I'll ever admit to them. I just try to return the favor whenever they need me.

I headed back to the loft and decided the laundry could wait until the next day. Instead I settled in with the Les Paul and did a little warming up. I've been writing a lot of songs lately. I guess I should be thankful that you gave me so much material. That, right there, is a sick and twisted thought. But those are the kinds of things that pop into my head, unbidden, and send my guilt into overdrive. So I write some more. It's a vicious, and yet perversely productive, circle. It's the only therapy I know.

Alice was taking the ferry from Mom and Dad's place, and I promised I'd pick her up at 7 p.m. I warmed up some Chinese take-out for dinner but refrained from having one of the Heinekens in the 'fridge since I'd be driving. As I ate, I wondered what Isabella Swan did for a living, and how she spent her weekends. I wondered if that idiot Jacob guy ever called her back. And what was so great about him that she'd be hell-bent on making sure he didn't have to take a crap while sitting on a chipped toilet seat, for chrissakes? Women really don't get men at all if they think we give two shits-pardon the pun-about something like that.

I was glad to hear the familiar Hendrix ring of my cell derailing that particular train of thought. It was Jasper, checking to see what time we'd be meeting up at the bar. We were each going to do a few tunes of our own and then a couple together. I'm thankful that he stuck around Seattle after graduation, and he's one of the few friends who stayed in touch with me after I dropped out of UW. Jasper makes his living working as a high school music teacher by day and playing in clubs by night. He's putting together a band of sorts, but he still likes to duet with me on occasion, and our voices complement each other's well.

I've never wanted to be part of a band. I'll just stick to me and my acoustic, and sing whatever is in my heart. I never know where any of it comes from when I get up in front of a group of people. I'm always nail-bitingly nervous for an hour beforehand, but once I'm onstage and open my mouth to sing, everything else disappears. That head space is my favorite place to be. It's almost like an out-of-body experience, and I like taking a vacation from myself.

Though it had been a hot summer day, the air was refreshingly cool down by the bay. I couldn't help but smile when Alice bounded toward me through the crowd departing from the boat onto the dock. Her energy was even more infectious than usual, probably because she was anxious to see Jasper. As for Jasper, he hasn't quite made up his mind about my quirky little sister. I didn't tell him that I suspect she already has herself mentally married to him and is blithely planning their 2.5 children and sprawling suburban home together. Once Alice makes up her mind about something or someone, it's impossible to sway her. She has an uncanny knack for predicting the outcome of things, and her track record is eerily good. If she senses that Jasper Whitlock is the man for her, the poor guy doesn't have a prayer.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, vaulting her diminutive body at me in greeting. I obligingly reached down to give her a hug, allowing her to throw her arms around me and squeal deafeningly into my ear. "Are you excited about tonight? I had sooo much fun last time you played at Java Shack!"

"Of course you did. That's the night you met Jasper," I laughed.

"Was it?" she gasped in mock innocence.

"Like you don't have the date written down in your diary," I grinned, remembering her furious scribbling into volumes of top-secret tomes from adolescence onward.

"Says the guy who won't let me see that mysterious black journal you always shove under the sofa cushions whenever I come over," she accused playfully.

"I told you, they're song lyrics," I reminded her. "Are you calling me a liar? Do you think I would keep anything from you?"

"Yes, and yes," she said flatly. "The older you get, the more secretive you become. Honestly, Edward, if you don't start letting people in, you're going to die old and alone, and let all that beauty go to waste." She squeezed my face briefly in her hand and gave me a peck on the cheek before releasing me and taking off down the boardwalk.

"I just turned 25, Alice," I called after her, picking up my pace to match hers. As tiny as she is, she can still beat my long-legged stride by virtue of her sheer boundless energy. "I'm not worried about being an eternal bachelor just yet. Why don't you work on getting Emmett to settle down instead? Thirty is looming right over his shoulder."

"Yes, but at least he dates," Alice argued. "And before you protest, those barflies you pick up, bed once and never see again do _not_ count."

"What a flattering picture of me you paint," I groused.

"If the condom fits…." she trailed off with a disapproving quirk of her brow.

"You'll be happy to know that I hardly ever do one-night stands anymore. It's not worth the hassle afterward."

"You mean when they actually start wanting something more from you than just sex?" she retorted. "That does not make me happy, Edward-quite the contrary. Because that means you've probably given up on women altogether. If you never let any of them stick around long enough to get to know them, then my prediction of permanent hermit bachelorhood will come true before you know it."

I sighed heavily as we approached my aging silver Volvo. "Alice, as soon as I meet a girl who makes me want to spend more than twenty minutes at a time with her, you'll be the first to know."

"Twenty minutes? Yeah, that sounds about right," she said with an innuendo-laden snort as I unlocked the car. "Well, you certainly aren't gonna be reeling in the ladies with this ride. I'm surprised you haven't splurged on some flashier wheels by now."

"It's paid for. It runs. That's all I care about," I replied as we climbed in. By the time we were both seat-belted up, I hoped the conversation would take a different turn. No such luck.

"Wow, maybe you have changed," she mused as I started the engine. "I'm just not sure it's for the better. If you've stopped trying to impress girls… I dunno, Edward. I'm worried about you."

"For God's sake, I'm fine. You're worrying for nothing. Don't take this the wrong way, but I think I liked it better when you were away at college. If you're going to spend the rest of the summer studying me under a microscope, then your first semester of med school can't start soon enough for me."

"Humph. Med school is exactly where you should be right now," she said as I pulled out on the Alaskan Way. "You had the best grades of all of us. You could have gone into any field you wanted. You still could, you know."

"_Et tu_, Alice?" I shot back. "I like what I do. Western medicine isn't the end-all, be-all, you know. I've been able to help people when traditional methods haven't done shit for them."

"No need to be so defensive. I respect what you do, honestly. It's just that the old Edward was so… ambitious. I'm afraid that you've kind of given up."

My jaw clenched and I bit my tongue before I said something I'd regret. I made a show of concentrating on driving, weaving in and out of traffic so we could get to the Pike Place Market district, where one of my favorite lounges was located.

"Edward, it's been three years now," she said softly. "When are you going to let all of it go?"

"I have let it go, Alice," I said hollowly. "I'm trying to build a different kind of life for myself. It would be nice if I had my family's support."

She put her hand reassuringly on my shoulder. "I'll always have your back, Edward. You know that," Alice said emphatically. "I just want you to be happy, that's all. And there's still so much sadness in your eyes. I miss my devil-may-care brother, you know? You were fearless."

I realized that I didn't know what that meant anymore. My carefree days seem so long ago, I no longer remember the feeling.

"I miss him too," I replied quietly, almost under my breath. But Alice's reassuring squeeze let me know that she heard.

We drove on in silence for a moment, until my baby sister's inherent bubbly personality frothed up to the surface again. "So, do you and Jasper take requests?" she asked suddenly. "Because there is something I'm dying to hear him sing. I mean, the both of you," she amended.

"Well, you can ask, but if we don't know it, you're SOL," I said with a grin, glad for the change of topic.

"If he doesn't know this one, he should," she replied mysteriously.

"I'm afraid to ask," I muttered as I miraculously spotted a parking spot not far from our destination.

The Java Shack is still one of my favorite watering holes, even after I left UW. I've always loved the laid-back atmosphere and that amazing Columbian breakfast blend that they fresh-roast daily. In the evenings the brew pub takes over, and it's more of a hot spot than it was when you and I used to go there, Tanya. Laurent has developed a die-hard clientele for the pale ale and amber bocks that he brews. The weekend open mic nights have become kind of a staple, and he always has a spot open for me whenever I want to play.

When our eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the bar, Alice and I discovered that Emmett had already saved us a table and ordered a pitcher of the house special. Alice was excited to learn that Jasper had arrived, too, and was talking with the bar manager about the schedule. When she caught his eye from across the room, she waved wildly and gave him a huge grin.

"Have you ever heard of playing hard-to-get, Alice?" Emmett suggested with a laugh.

"Not my style," she replied dismissively. "I like being direct. I don't see the point in playing games, unlike some people I know." She gave us both an accusatory look, her gaze settling on me the longest.

I shook my head in denial. "I'm telling you, I'm a changed man," I tried to convince her. Emmett's derisive snort didn't help my case.

"I dare you to _not_ take home the first girl who hits on you tonight," she challenged.

"Trust me, that won't be any hardship on me. Seriously, Alice, a lot of the girls in these places have lost their appeal for me," I insisted.

She put her palm to my forehead as if checking for a fever, while Emmett mused, "You know, it has been awhile since I've seen you chatting up the groupies. Are you starting to bat for the other team? Is there something you're not telling us about you and Jasper?"

Alice gasped and punched our elder sibling in his considerable bicep, hard enough to make him grunt in protest.

"Take it back!" she demanded. "Jasper cannot swing the other way. I have plans for him that are of an overtly heterosexual nature."

"So you're fine with it if I've decided to go gay, as long as Jasper is still eligible? It's enlightening to know what you really think of me, Alice," I commented with a half-laugh. "If I pick up girls in bars, I'm a womanizer. If I stop, then I'm gay. Is there no middle ground where I'm safe from attack?"

She shooed me away as if I were a pesky fly, her rabid attention focused solely on Jasper as he approached our table.

"I think Jazz is the one who's unsafe at the moment," Emmett commented. He held up his mug for a toast, and I raised my glass to his in agreement.

Jasper greeted us with his usual big, lazy grin and casual fist-bump, but Alice was having none of that. She engulfed him in a bear hug that made him laugh, though he did give me kind of an embarrassed look over her shoulder.

"We're set to go on in about an hour," he told me as he extricated himself from my sister's embrace. I noticed that his hand stayed on the small of her back for a bit longer than could be considered platonic. I almost laughed out loud. Alice Cullen always gets her man. Whether or not she decides to keep him is another story entirely.

I was glad to have some time to down a little liquid courage and talk with Jazz about our set beforehand. There's a small area off-stage where musicians can tune their guitars and warm up a little right before going on. But other than that, performers pretty much have to go on "cold turkey" and play. There weren't a lot of other musicians at Java last night, so it looked like Jasper and I would get to do a decent set. Sometimes it's one, maybe two songs and you're through. Some of the performers are serious about making a living at their art, and they hope to catch the eyes and ears of indie label scouts who sometimes frequent these showcases to check out the local talent. Others are more like me, just looking for a momentary outlet or release for their creativity. In fact, the idea of making a living selling my music is almost abhorrent to me. I can't imagine exposing such personal expression to the masses and turning it into commerce.

Jazz knows how nervous I get, so he let me go on first to "get it over with," in a manner of speaking. I warmed up with one of my favorite old Van Morrison tunes, then followed up with one of my own, a kind of bluesy ballad, which is predominantly what I seem to write. The songs seemed to go over pretty well with the laid-back but appreciative crowd. Emmett and Alice made enough racket for half a dozen people, which made me grin in spite of myself.

Jasper always looks calm and commanding onstage, like he was born to be there. He has a certain air of authority about him, probably from controlling a class full of unruly kids every day. I try to emulate him but can never pull it off. I always feel like I wear my heart on my sleeve as soon as I strap a guitar around my neck. Maybe that's because I tend to keep it so carefully guarded every other minute of the day.

He performed one of his original rockabilly-infused songs, and then, with an announcement that the next song was "by request," he gave Alice a wink and launched into "Bad Things." I had to laugh at Alice's audacity, but when I listened to the lyrics, all I could think about was Isabella Swan.

__

I'm the kind to sit up in his room.  
Heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue.  
I don't know what you've done to me,  
But I know this much is true:  
I wanna do bad things with you.*

I was beginning to feel a little annoyance at the niche she had already carved in my brain. After all, I really didn't know a thing about her, other than she was a girl in pain. I guess I have you to thank for making me so attuned to that now.

By the time Jazz was done, the crowd was getting a little more riled up. I joined him for a driving blues song we'd written together, followed by an old Tom Petty tune that had the patrons cheering. A happy buzz had caught hold of me by the time we left the tiny stage, and as always, I was still somewhat surprised and relieved at the catharsis I felt.

"You were fantastic!" Alice exclaimed when we made our way back to our table. She managed to grab both Jasper and I in a simultaneous hug, while I whispered, "Sneaky," into her ear. She shushed me quietly and turned her attention to my friend, asking him some mundane question about what kind of strings he uses on his Gibson, as if the answer meant anything at all to her.

Emmett congratulated me with a slap on the back, then poured me a beer out of the nearly-empty pitcher on our table. I motioned to our nearby waitress for a refill, and when I turned back to Emmett, he had his back to me and was talking with a group of guys at the table behind us.

"Hey man, nice job," one of them said to me, getting up and holding out his hand in greeting. I shook it and thanked him, then looked to Emmett to see if he'd bother to introduce his new acquaintances. For once my brother picked up a hint about social graces, and he went around the table, naming off the guys one by one. They happened to be members of an up-and-coming local band, The Wolf Pack. When Emmett announced the name of the last guy, the one who had complimented me, my ears perked up instantly.

I repeated his name aloud. "Jacob Black?" He nodded in answer. "Edward Cullen," I introduced myself.

I was certain that Jacob Black was the name of the guy Isabella Swan hoped to impress with a pristine crapper. Could this really be the same guy for whom she had severely screwed up her back? My eyes narrowed as I gave him a surreptitious once-over. A dark-skinned native American with a blinding, toothy grin, Jacob Black was pretty much the opposite of me in every way, from his deep-set ebony eyes to his overblown gym-rat muscles.

_Is this the type she's attracted to? _I wondered silently. I felt frustration ripple through me at the thought. At least I was a good half-foot taller than he was, I consoled myself.

"My hat goes off to you, being able to solo like that," Jacob told me in what sounded like all earnestness. "You've got some mad vocal skills. All I'm good for is pounding the skins," he said with a good-natured laugh, adding a little air-drumming to punctuate his statement. He came across as easy-going, a good guy, not unlike my brother sitting next to us. So why did I already dislike him so much?

I thanked him for the compliment and asked him what kind of music his band played, mostly to make conversation; but also because I was curious as to what type of music my newest massage client liked. And did her preferences extend to the musicians themselves?

"Mostly rock, in kind of a Kings of Leon vein," Jacob answered. "But we like to check out the folk and blues scene around here too, when we don't have a gig."

"So when's your next show? I'll have to catch a set sometime," I offered. I didn't reveal why. I didn't even want to admit the reason to myself, though it was obvious where my devious mind was headed. I was already considering this guy my competition, which was ridiculous, because I don't date clients. Ever. The last thing I need is a sexual misconduct suit filed against me by a disgruntled former customer-turned-paramour. Not getting involved personally with clients is my one ironclad rule.

_Rules were made to be broken_, a little singsong voice in my warped brain taunted me. I ignored it and tried to concentrate on conversation with the band. The Wolf Pack was comprised of a group of Quileute natives from near the coast, who had moved to Seattle to try their luck at getting signed to a record label. I was itching to ask Jacob if he knew Isabella Swan, and if so, how? But I could think of no offhand way to do it, so I kept my mouth shut. I wished it was as easy to shut off the part of me that was so curious about her.

At least sitting and talking with the guys kept me from getting accosted by any of the girls in the bar, so I wouldn't have to put up with Alice's judgmental glares. That's what I thought until I went to the men's room, anyway. Sure enough, as soon as I came out, a couple of females happened to turn from the bar with their drinks and walk directly in my path. At first I thought it was accidental, but the blonde's exclamation of surprised apology was a little too obvious, as was the brunette's expression of annoyed embarrassment. Apparently her friend had pulled this stunt before.

"Hey, didn't you perform earlier?" the blonde asked with feigned nonchalance. I gave a perfunctory nod and curt smile in response, which somehow still encouraged her to continue. "You were fantastic. Really! So… _raw _and passionate. Do you have a CD or website with your music? 'Cause I would totally buy it!"

The curt smile found my lips again. "No, sorry, I just do this for fun. Just a past-time."

"Wow, that's a shame. Talent like yours should be heard. Seriously!" she insisted, giving me a pearly smile. She was very pretty, very pert, very blonde. Very not-my-type. The brunette rolled her eyes a bit, and I immediately liked her better than her eager friend. What is it that shrinks are always saying about guys liking a challenge? Maybe that's true. At least I find myself leaning that direction more and more lately. Plus, the brunette reminded me of….

_Shit. No more of this_, I told myself. I excused myself from the girls before they had a chance to introduce themselves, then went back to our table. Alice was waiting for me with The Look, just as I expected.

"There!" I told her with satisfaction. "I did not pick up the first girl who came across my path. I believe that calls for another round of drinks, on you."

"The night is young," she laughed. "The blonde is an easy mark, but I'll bet her friend can be had too if you play your cards right."

"What makes you say that?" I asked. "And why are you suddenly encouraging me in despicable behavior, anyway?"

"The brunette had too much of a look of distaste on her face," Alice explained. "Not indifferent enough. More like she was trying really hard to resist your pretty face, I'm guessing. She's probably used to her friend getting all the hot guys, so she automatically convinces herself that she's not into you from the get-go so that she doesn't feel bad if you reject her."

"Geezus, Alice, is that really how women think?" Emmett piped up. "No wonder it's so fucking hard to figure all of you out." He shook his head in bewilderment, and I had to join him. Alice's words almost made me want to go chat up the brunette, just on principle. But she looked too much like _her. _And I was not giving that subject any more thought tonight.

I started drinking Cokes so that I could sober up a bit before driving back to the loft. Alice was staying the night at my place so that she wouldn't have to take the ferry back late at night. The way she and Jasper were acting, I was almost surprised that she didn't go home with him instead. She explained to me later in the car that she has a very strict policy of not sleeping with a guy until after at least three formal dates, preferably more, but it just depends on how the relationship is going. I reminded her that I really don't want to know one single detail about her sex life, and that if she plans on boning any of my friends, that sentiment is at least tripled.

The next morning I had a few clients to see, so I let Alice sleep in on the couch. She was gone when I came back, though she had left me a couple of pastries from the coffee shop down the street, along with a note saying she planned to come see me tonight at Billy's Brew Pub, but that this time Emmett would pick her up. I should have known she would come to support me, even if Jasper wouldn't be there this time. He was rehearsing with his band in the hopes that they'd become tight enough to start playing some local venues. I thought again of The Wolf Pack, and whether or not their Jacob Black was the same one who had caught Isabella's eye. Maybe I'd ask her about him next week at our appointment.

Or maybe I should just cut my tongue out before it gets me in trouble. Although, to be fair, it isn't really my tongue that's the problem.

I pushed back the unwelcome thoughts again and got dressed for my weekly tennis match with Katrina. I considered telling her about Isabella, but I already knew what advice she'd give me. She has the same "no fraternizing with clients" policy that I have. But she's the only person in my life who's completely objective, and she sure helped me get through a lot of my issues with you. I may need to vent to her yet, depending on how the next session with Ms. Swan goes. But the match itself helped me get out some aggressions, and I bested Kate three of five games, even though she's a better player than I am. I could tell she was dying to ask me what was up with my brutal serves today, but she kept mum. I wish I'd known her when I was involved with you. She may have saved us both a world of heartache.

By the time I got to Billy's tonight, I was feeling better about things. Focusing on the tennis game for awhile helped put everything into perspective. I was blowing this whole preoccupation with Isabella Swan completely out of proportion. When I saw her again next Saturday, I was sure to have the balloon of my expectations about her deflated by the pinprick of reality. I probably just saw in her what I wanted to: someone I could "fix" this time, before it's too late. It didn't take Freud to figure out what I was doing, and I didn't need a shrink to tell me to stop doing it. Every now and then, common sense does prevail in this addled brain of mine.

I've only been to Billy's a few times, but I'm already falling in love with the vibe of the place. All kinds of people can be found there, from aging hipsters to young wannabe poets and everything in between. I've never heard such an attentive audience as at their open mic nights. There's a kind of respect permeating the air there, like the patrons want to give performers the benefit of the doubt. No fear of boos or rotten tomatoes ever takes over when I'm at Billy's.

I poured my heart and soul into the two songs I did tonight. I couldn't seem to contain myself, and I didn't try. I just put it all out there: the way I failed you, and why. And how it doesn't change anything. I chose the seemingly odd, yet perfect, "Sorry I Am" by Ani DiFranco; and then, for the first time, I finally performed _that_ song I wrote. You know the one - the one that almost kills me to sing it, but I decided to do it anyway, because I had to. I have to exorcise you one way or another.

I was reduced to nothing but a bundle of raw, pulsing nerves by the time I finished. I felt naked; exposed. There was dead silence in the club for a few agonizing seconds, and I thought, _No one gets it. No one understands. _But then, the applause began… slowly at first, then building to a crescendo that I've never heard before. Whistles and shouts followed as the loud clapping continued. Dazed, I looked out at the crowd, really seeing them as individuals for the first time. Most were strangers, but many had glistening eyes, as if I had touched them deeply. Emmett looked stricken; Alice had tears running freely down her adorable cheeks.

And then my gaze caught something that sent a nervous thrill from my scalp to my toes. A familiar pale, heart-shaped face stood out to me from the throng. Her slack mouth was agape, her watery eyes engulfing my soul. I'd recognize those drops of Hershey's syrup anywhere.

I felt my heart sink rapidly as my eyes locked with hers. I wasn't imaging things. There is something between us that I can't define and can't control. It isn't all in my head. It seems to have infected every other part of me as well.

Holy fucking hell. I really am in trouble, and trouble has a name.

Isabella Marie Swan.

*"Bad Things" music and lyrics by Jace Everett, © EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.; JACKABOY SONGS


	4. Glimpse

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has checked out, alerted, favorited or reviewed this story. It means the world to me. You are the reason I keep on writing. Well, that and it's plain ol' geek girl fun. ;) The minute it isn't is the minute I should hang it up. **

**In the meantime, hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

_**F**__**rom the Desk of Bella Swan**_

**Friday, July 23, 2010**

I don't think I've ever been so happy to have a digital recorder in my life.

Now I can listen to Edward Cullen whenever I want to, which is often. In fact, I can't stop. It's a mindless action that my index finger performs every twenty minutes: hitting the repeat button. His voice stops, my brow crinkles, my lips frown, I hit "repeat."

It's kind of destroying me.

Okay, maybe that's a little melodramatic. But what he does to me is too intense for me to behave any other way. No one I've ever met has moved me like this before. Body and soul, he owns me. And the more I get to know him, the more afraid I am that my mind will follow, and then where will I be? Because he has made it clear that I am not standing on a two-way street. So heading any further down this road will only lead to heartache.

But right now, with the body and soul already in mutiny, my mind keeps losing the battle. And that deviant two-thirds of me is pleased as punch that stealth-recording possible new artists for Java Noise is a part of my job. That inescapable fact absolves me of any wrong-doing in capturing my massage therapist's positively mind-blowing performance at Billy's last weekend, and again tonight. Tonight's set didn't have quite the same raw urgency as last week's, and he was joined by a folksy bass singer named Jasper Whitlock on a couple of tunes; but the magic was still there, hanging in the air like fairy dust from the wands of Sleeping Beauty's fairy godmothers.

So the fact that I can't play these recordings for Rose is absolutely killing me. She and I spend ridiculous amounts of time combing Youtube and amateur websites for any sort of talent that's out of the norm; going through tons of demos and videos from people who shamelessly hawk their talents, big or small, eager to get a foot in the music industry door. And then there's Edward Cullen, sitting there like a goldmine filled with untapped treasure, but he won't let me get through the bedrock to reach the brilliance hidden within.

I guess I should backtrack a bit. It all started last Saturday night, when I innocently went to Billy's Brew Pub to check out the open mic night, as I often do. I came armed with my trusty recorder and equally trusty roomie, early enough to grab a table near the front, yet far to one side. I like to surreptitiously study the performers and judge the audience reaction, yet be close enough to get a decent recording for Rose. Angela and I settled in with a pitcher of our favorite lager and sat gamely through the first few acts: a dreary, dread-locked, white folk-singer chick; an Asian hippie who spent half his distracting performance flicking his long hair out of his face; and a Jamaican guy whose Rastafarian rapping was the probably the most interesting thing I'd heard so far. I made a mental note to listen carefully to his recording later, to determine if he sounded as good without the congenial bar buzz as his backdrop. Angela seemed to like him, and she's usually a pretty good, impartial judge of talent.

But then _he_ stepped onstage, and my heart stopped. For a split second I didn't even recognize him. His scholarly glasses were gone, as was his formal lab coat, of course. In its place he sported an extremely faded, shrunken t-shirt that barely managed to cover the length of his torso; a pair of hole-infested button-fly jeans; and the same untied black suede shoes I'd stared at for an hour through the donut hole the day before. He clearly hadn't shaved in the last 48 hours, and the hair atop his head somehow seemed to have grown as well. The hazy golden light that shone over the small stage lit his gravity-defying mane into a glowing halo over his furrowed brow. His handsome face was a sculptor's dream, its chiseled curves and planes creating stark geometric patterns of shadow and light. He looked like a preoccupied, unkempt deity of some kind.

The audience hushed and murmured as he sat down upon a stool and did some final tuning of his beautiful vintage Gibson Dove acoustic, and I wasn't sure what struck me more: his haunting presence, or his commendable taste in guitars.

"Look at that guy!" Angela exclaimed in awe. I glanced at her long enough to see that her eyes were saucers as she stared up at the stage. She pushed her glasses up her nose as if to get a better gander at him.

"That's my massage therapist," I answered, sounding as stunned as she did. Angela gasped in surprise, then whacked me on the arm as if to demand further explanation. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him long enough to respond.

But my initial astonishment was nothing to the shock I felt when he opened his mouth.

He mumbled a soft "hello," then announced the name of the song he was about to sing as he picked out the slow, poignant notes of the intro. He was a decent, if not masterful, guitarist. The song he chose was one I knew well, by one of my favorite artists. The tune was a favorite as well. But what guy does a cover of an Ani DiFranco song?

I listened carefully to the lyrics as he sang, though I knew them by heart. The only way he would have chosen an aching, heartfelt song like that was if the words meant something to him. He certainly sang the song as if they did.

_I'm sorry I didn't sound more excited on the phone_  
_I'm sorry that after all these years_  
_I've left you feeling unrequited and alone, brought you to tears_  
_I guess I never loved you quite as well as the way you loved me_  
_I guess I'll never really be able to tell you how sorry I am_

_And I don't know what it is about you_  
_I just know it's not what it was_  
_I don't know why red fades before blue it just does_  
_and I don't know what it is about me_  
_that I just can't keep still_  
_I keep thinking someday I will make this all up to you_  
_and maybe someday I will_

_I guess I never loved you quite as well_  
_as the way you loved me_  
_I guess I'll never really be able to tell you how sorry I am_  
_sorry I am_  
_sorry I am_  
_sorry I am_

I felt like I was looking through a window into Edward Cullen's soul while he sang. As if his mere presence on this stage hadn't bowled me over enough, I was shocked to discover that he sang beautifully as well. His deep, soft speaking voice could not have prepared me for the clear, warbling tenor that now filled the room. Though he sang the Ani tune with subdued remorse, much like the original, I could sense the power that lurked in those vocal chords, waiting to be unleashed. His delivery perfectly mimicked his physical appearance at the office yesterday: restrained to the point of bursting at the seams, like something was about to give.

I didn't have to wait long to see and hear what that something was. When he launched into his next number, apparently an original, his performance turned transcendent. His voice grew more gruff and impassioned as the song went on, building to a keening wail by the time he reached the end. He sang with such fervor that it sometimes sounded as if he might veer off pitch, like a runaway train jumping the tracks; but then he'd steer his voice back on track and find the note again, his tremulous vibrato clinging to it as if it were a life preserver.

In that moment, I finally saw-no, _felt_-that untamed part of him now thrust to the surface, like a nerve twitching visibly under a thin veil of skin. From the moment we met, I sensed that something was lurking under that carefully controlled façade. Now I knew what that something was. I recognized it all too well.

Pain.

Edward Cullen was suffering, and this was his release. I couldn't even decipher half the lyrics of his second song, and it didn't matter. The emotion behind them spoke more clearly than the most perfect enunciation ever could. All I caught was something about being lost in a sea of red, and I can guess what that metaphor is all about. But guessing isn't good enough, and I know it never will be. I want to know what was behind such an outpouring of emotion on that tiny stage. I want to know Edward Cullen…to get under his skin, the way he does mine when he touches me. Here he is, so concerned with making me better, when he seems to need a healing touch at least as badly as I do.

He finished his performance by reining in his raspy wail and reducing it to a muted whisper. By the time his last dulcet guitar notes wafted into the air, the entire audience was silent as a stone. They had to have felt the same power and anguish emanating from him as I had, or they would have littered the empty air with the mindless background chatter that's ubiquitous in any bar. But Edward Cullen had managed to stun every single patron into hushed awe for one profound moment, before applause and shouts of approval began to fill the room.

In that split second of agonizing silence after he stopped playing, I could see the panic in Edward's eyes before he squeezed them shut. He thought they didn't like him. How he could have surmised such a thing was beyond me, but it was as clear as day in his stricken green eyes before they closed.

When he opened them again, his surprise was just as evident, followed by his embarrassed pleasure. His cheeks flushed slightly as he looked hesitantly around the room, evidently trying to absorb the adulation that he seemed to feel was beyond his grasp. Why didn't he think he deserved such praise for his talent? It was baffling to me. Surely this wasn't the first time he had ever performed. He was a little too self-assured as he took the stage, and too free in his performance, for him to be a novice.

As his eyes warily swept the crowd, I watched his bashful grin turn into a large smile of recognition. I followed his gaze to a table across the room, where I saw his brother Emmett, and a pretty slip of a girl next to him. Both of them looked especially touched by Edward's performance, and I wondered what his relationship was to the tearful girl who was clapping so vigorously for him. I immediately identified the resulting pang that traveled through my chest as jealousy, followed swiftly by frustration. I mean, damn it, Mom, I told you I was in danger of falling for this guy already. But now that I know he's a musician-and a damned good one, at that-I am surfing on a banana peel.

My eyes drifted back to the impossibly gifted and gorgeous man onstage, and as if he sensed my stare, his eyes suddenly zeroed in on mine like heat-seeking missiles. I certainly felt as if I'd been struck, my body quivering from the impact. I couldn't look away, and neither could he, it seemed. He pinned me with his gaze for a prolonged moment, and I felt powerless under the weight of it. I tried to read his penetrating eyes but was too dumb-struck to think straight. He looked nearly as shocked as I must have when I first caught sight of him in a place I didn't expect. But there was more to his expression than that. Dismay, maybe? Or even fear? There was a tangible vulnerability in those big eyes of his, studying me cautiously from under thick, knitted brows.

He looked away suddenly without smiling, then rose from his stool and lifted the guitar strap from around his neck. He nodded in deference to the cheering crowd, eyes downcast, and exited stage right. He hurried back to the table where his brother-and girlfriend?-stood waiting for him, still clapping. The girl threw her arms around him with such abandon that the jealousy expanded like a suffocating sponge through my chest. Even my shoulder ached with envy to be hers as he buried his face there, his arms enveloping her tightly for a moment. Emmett gave him a couple of pats on the back, almost in consolation rather than congratulation. There was something more going on here than just a great performance. Edward seemed to have gone through some kind of catharsis, one that his two bar mates recognized. The knowing, sympathetic looks in their eyes piqued my curiosity even further. What was going on with Edward Cullen, anyway? What had happened to him that provoked this kind of emotional bloodletting?

"That was an intense look between you two!" Angela exclaimed over the subsiding applause, nudging me with her elbow and dislodging me from my trance. "Did you have any idea how talented he was? And what the heck happened at that massage session yesterday? Is there something you're not telling me?"

I shook my head in bewilderment. "I don't know," I admitted. "Nothing happened, really. I did feel sort of sick by the time it was over, and he seemed irritated that I hadn't told him I wasn't feeling well. He was just concerned about my health, I think."

Sure, he had joked with me a bit during the massage, but by the end, he was all business. I was pretty sure I'd been the only one feeling something profound when I looked into his concerned green eyes. At least, that's what I thought until now.

"Huh. It looks like a little more than that, from where I'm sitting," Angela countered. She took a sip of beer and her eyes followed mine to the table across the bar. "I wonder if that's his girlfriend, then?" she mused as she regarded the threesome. "Maybe he has a thing for you, and he's afraid she just saw the evidence."

I let out a feeble laugh. "Doubtful," I said wistfully. "I mean, look at him. There's not a girl in this bar who wouldn't go home with him right now if he so much as glanced sideways at her."

"I beg to differ! I love my Ben, even if he isn't a Greek god," Angela grinned.

"He's better than a Greek god," I corrected her. "He's sweet and humble and treats you like a goddess."

"I did get lucky," she admitted with a contented smile. She and Ben Chaney have been together since high school and are the most solid couple I know. They give me hope that someday I might be able to find the kind of love they have-deep, strong, secure. I certainly never had a good example of that growing up, since you and Dad seemed to have irreconcilable differences as far back as I can remember. I'm not blaming you, of course. Unfortunately, I think the Angelas and Bens of this world are the exception, not the rule.

"By the way, the other guy at that table is Edward's brother, Emmett," I informed my roommate, gulping more of my beer. I suddenly was feeling parched.

"The chiropractor?" she exclaimed. "Okay, I'm starting to understand why you were so nervous. He's huge!"

I laughed in agreement. "Yeah, I know. He turned out to be kind of a gentle giant, though," I admitted.

"He looks nice," Angela observed. "Why don't we go over there so you can say 'hi' and introduce me to them? You could nose around and see if Edward's interested in recording something, too. You'd probably get a big, fat bonus from Rosalie if you could sign him to Java Noise!"

I instantly shook my head in refusal. "I don't want to bother them. It looks like they're having kind of a personal moment." Still, a tiny shiver of excitement traveled down my spine at the thought of getting Edward Cullen to join our label. Would he be open to something like that? If so, this could be the beginning of a very nice, reciprocal arrangement between us. He could cure my messed-up back, and I could give him a shot at a music career. Surely with a gift like he possessed, he'd be willing and eager to meet with Rose.

"You're just worried that the girl with them is Edward's girlfriend," Angela accused with a sly smile. "You won't know unless you go over there and find out."

The beer was starting to taste better and better as I contemplated making the journey across the bar to greet my new physicians. Even though Edward wasn't technically a doctor, he still acted and dressed like one. Only his hair and shoelaces refused to comply with the code of professional decorum he had imposed upon himself while in the office. By contrast, his appearance now was one tin cup away from Street Bum, and I was overwhelmed at how absurdly attractive he made that look.

Just as I was gathering my courage to take my best friend over to the Cullen table, by some miracle the girl sitting with them got up and headed for the ladies' room. I couldn't help but exhale with relief. I took another quick swig of beer and muttered, "Okay, let's get this over with."

Angela let out a surprised laugh. "Why are you so nervous? I thought you said the Cullens were really nice."

"They are," I agreed. I wasn't sure why I was apprehensive. There had been something so personal about Edward's performance that I felt as if I had eaves-dropped or intruded upon him somehow. That was ridiculous, of course. If that had been the case, then every patron in the bar was a guilty voyeur.

"You look like you're about to introduce me to your executioner," she chuckled, grabbing her purse. For some reason, it certainly felt as if I were about to stick my neck out on the chopping block. I couldn't forget the wary, almost alarmed look in Edward's eyes a moment ago. It reminded me of a blinking "caution" sign on the side of the road.

I took a deep breath as we wove around the tables and chairs toward the Cullen brothers. At least I was sure to get a positive response from warm and friendly Emmett, I reassured myself. To my utter dismay, no sooner did I have this thought than he rose from his stool and headed for the bar, leaving Edward alone at the table.

I stopped short in panic and was nearly mowed down by Ange, who stumbled into my suddenly stock-still backside.

What's up with you, Bella?" she demanded in my ear. "Why are you so afraid of this guy?"

"I'm not afraid of him," I scoffed as my heart mocked me with its increasingly staccato rhythm. "I just…don't want to bother him," I reiterated.

"I doubt it's any bother for him to hear compliments about how talented he is," she argued. She gave me a gentle nudge followed by a not-so-gentle order: "Now, GO."

I took a shaky breath as I robotically approached the table where Edward Cullen sat, lifting a beer mug to his mouth. I admired his luscious lips caressing the thick glass, and was mesmerized by the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. How could anyone make such a mundane act look so sensual?

I tried to swallow the nervous lump that was lodged in my own throat as I caught his eye. "Hey, Edward," I managed to croak, clearing my throat after the fact.

He looked somewhat startled to see me there, and that odd deer-in-the-headlights look flashed through his eyes again as he set down his mug and rose from the bar stool. He recovered quickly and a small grin claimed victory over his reluctant lips.

"Isabella," he replied, managing to say my name like it was dripping in honey, and making my nether regions respond in kind. "What a nice surprise, seeing you here," he added with a too-polite smile. I still sensed that he was disconcerted I'd caught him in such an unguarded moment. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair as if to prove it.

"I know. I was really shocked to see you here, too," I agreed. "Oh, and it's just 'Bella.' My friends all call me Bella."

His pink lips pursed a bit as he softly replied, "Yes, but you're my client, so…." his voice trailed off and his eyes fell a bit sheepishly as he grabbed his beer from the table for another draught.

I stared at him in undisguised shock. I could not have been more stung if he had physically slapped me. I literally took a step back, as if to make sure I stayed behind the boundary he had just set between us with all the subtlety of a falling anvil. As I blinked in disbelief, I reminded myself that he was simply making it perfectly clear that things would stay professional between us as long as he was my therapist. So why did it feel like a personal affront?

Ange noted my stunned reaction and quickly spoke up to save me.

"I'm Angela Weber, Bella's roommate," she offered, sticking out her hand toward Edward in greeting. "We just wanted to tell you how great you were up there. You're really talented."

Edward looked embarrassed again as he shook her hand. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's nice to meet you, Angela." The fact that he repeated her name so easily made the blood begin to percolate in my veins.

"Do you perform often?" she continued politely. I knew it was an effort for her to keep the conversation going, because she's as innately shy as I am, if not more so.

"Once or twice a week, maybe," he answered, gulping more lager. It suddenly struck me that maybe he was behaving the way I had before I came over to his table-drowning his nervousness in beer. "I like to do open mic nights, just for fun. Let off a little steam," he explained in feigned nonchalance.

"That was a little more than just fun," I blurted before I could stop myself. Edward looked at me in alarm once again. What the hell was he so afraid of?

"Your performance was extremely moving," I continued, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "It was really… heartfelt," I concluded lamely, not able to articulate what I really wanted to say when he was staring at me in such consternation. "The whole audience felt it."

There was a brief but heart-stopping silence as his eyes pierced mine, deep emerald arrows flecked with gray in the dim light.

"It's nice to be able to connect," he said at last. "Even if it's just for a moment."

My heart commenced its incessant pounding again, foolishly wanting to believe that his words were laced with personal meaning. My head quickly reminded my heart that he was so opposed to "connecting" with me that he couldn't even bring himself to use my nickname in casual conversation.

Apparently, his brother Emmett had no such problem.

"Bella!" his voice boomed over my shoulder as he elbowed his way through the crowd. He set down three shots of what looked-and smelled-like whiskey on the table. "Good to see you! How are you? Are you feeling okay today? Any soreness?"

I immediately felt more at ease with his big teddy-bear persona filling the awkward spaces around Edward, Angela and me. "I'm kind of sore, yeah. But I actually feel a little better. I'm starting to think that maybe you can help me," I smiled at him. My smile faded slightly as I turned to Edward and added, "Both of you."

Edward's face softened a bit and he answered quietly, "I'm glad to hear that. I think so, too."

"We'll have you fixed up in no time," Emmett assured me with an easy smile. "You girls want to join us for a shot? We're toasting my little brother's success tonight. He was pretty awesome, eh?" he grinned, raising his beer.

"He was incredible," I agreed, my voice barely a whisper. I glanced at Edward's tense expression and quickly looked away. "We don't want to impose," I added to Emmett with an apologetic smile. "We just came over to say hello, and congratulations."

I could barely stand the feel of Edward's eyes on me anymore. Their gaze felt like an accusation, but I couldn't figure out what I was guilty of.

"Oh, don't run off," Emmett entreated. "At least stay and meet our little sister. And who's your friend, here?" he asked, smiling warmly at Angela.

_Sister? _That was quite possibly the sweetest word I'd ever heard. Although I wasn't sure why it mattered anymore, given Edward's standoffish behavior toward me.

I introduced Angela to Emmett, who gregariously shook her hand and then pulled up some bar stools, insisting that we sit down. Angela was the buffer between Edward and me, while Emmett flanked my other side. He flagged down a passing waitress for two more shots, which he insisted we share with the Cullen siblings.

As if on cue, the littlest Cullen bounded up to the table from the back of the bar. Up close, she was clearly a diminutive female version of both of her brothers: as beautiful as Edward; as effusive as Emmett.

She looked Angela and me over and announced, "Well, will you look at this-my brothers have already found two gorgeous girls to hit on. What are the odds?"

She grinned facetiously and shot Edward a raised eyebrow. He looked even more flummoxed than before, and his glare at her was downright intimidating. She seemed to delight in his irritation, her smile broadening.

"I'm Alice Cullen," she beamed at us, putting her arms around our shoulders in a brief hug. "I hope these two have been behaving themselves while I was away. Honestly, I can't leave them alone for a minute before they seduce every female within ten-block radius." She laughed and shook her short, spiky hair in mock disapproval, then danced around the table to seat herself between the two.

"Hey now, don't go making us look bad in front of a patient," Emmett admonished. "This is our new client, Bella Swan, and her friend, Angela Weber."

"Oh! Nice to meet you," Alice smiled at us, turning her attention to me. "Don't worry, you are in excellent hands with these two. Second only to Jesus in the healing department. They are the best, the very best," she insisted, her face filled with a mixture of love and pride. "Look at the hands on this one! He was born to massage your cares away," she sighed, prying Edward's elegant fingers off of his beer mug and waving his hand in example before giving it a squeeze. Edward's warning look relaxed into a resigned laugh and a shake of his own tousled locks. He clearly had a soft spot for his baby sister's cheerleading.

"…Not to mention, playing the hell out of a guitar!" Alice suddenly added, her tiny fingers lacing briefly with her brother's long ones before releasing them. "Did you catch his set? Was he not fantastic? Not a dry eye in the house. I saw grown men weeping on the way to the ladies' room, I kid you not!" she exclaimed.

She finally took a breather so I could actually answer her question. "Yes, he was amazing. The best I've heard in awhile."

My eyes couldn't help but revisit his beautiful face, and they were instantly caught in the web of his long lashes as he stared relentlessly back at me. I was too busy trying to untangle my gaze from his to notice the pregnant pause that had ensued. The sound of Alice emitting an exaggerated stage cough finally tore my eyes away, and when I looked at her, she was quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at her middle brother again.

She turned to me, gave me a smile and said, "Yes, Bella, he _is_ amazing. More than you know."

"Have you ever thought of recording anything?" Angela piped up, smiling innocently at Edward. I gave her a warning kick under the table.

Edward shook his head adamantly. "No, I could never do that. I mean, maybe for myself, but not to sell or anything. I'd never want to turn it into a money-maker. It's too personal."

His tone of voice indicated his distaste at the idea, and my heart fell. Not only was he uninterested in being my friend, he clearly wouldn't want to do business with me or my record company, either.

"Honestly, Edward, you're depriving the world of a very special gift," Alice sighed. "Not many people can get an entire bar to shut up just to hear them sing. Maybe you've missed your true calling," she told her brother. Something in the dark look that flashed between them told me that this was a sensitive subject, one that they had clashed over before.

"Alice thinks she's an authority on how everyone should live their lives, and isn't afraid to tell them so," Edward shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps you're the one who missed her calling. You'd make an excellent vocational guidance counselor." He scowled into his mug before taking a long swig.

Alice seemed unperturbed. "I would, at that," she agreed blithely. "It's good to know that I'll have something to fall back on if the whole pediatric medicine thing doesn't pan out."

Emmett took a deep breath and, with the authority of a long-suffering referee, announced, "Okay, okay. Everybody back to their corners. The only rounds I want to deal with are of the pilsner variety."

The waitress blessedly arrived at that moment with our extra two shots of whiskey, which I was actually beginning to look forward to. Maybe the liquid fire would help take the edge off of the increasingly tense atmosphere. I tried to fish some money out of my purse, but Emmett and Edward simultaneously insisted on paying, then argued with each other over who would get to do the honors.

"Men," Alice sighed with a grin and a roll of her doe eyes. Meanwhile, Edward won the battle of the bill after pointing out that Emmett had just bought the other three shots. He smiled obligingly at the waitress as he handed her a wad of cash, adding in that irresistible Sex Voice of his that she should keep the change. She blushed and grinned at him in a way that swelled the jealousy sponge again before I could stop it.

"Don't even think about it," I could swear I heard Alice hiss at Edward in a low voice. I was beginning to get the idea that wherever Edward Cullen went, he drew swarms of girls to him as easily as nectar attracts bees. Still, the look he threw Alice after her remark could hardly be called sweet. It was nothing short of venomous.

Emmett seemed oblivious to the sibling squabbling, or he was simply used to ignoring it. He passed out all the whiskey shots, raised his in the air and said, "I'd like to propose a toast. To Edward, for being an effortlessly talented SOB. Thanks for sharing the wealth with all of us here tonight."

"Hear, hear!" Alice agreed, lifting her glass. Edward squirmed uncomfortably, his cheeks reddening slightly. Angela raised her shot glass, and I did the same. But before we could all touch glasses and toss back the whiskey, Edward cleared his throat and said, "I'd like to make a toast, too."

A hush fell around the table as he picked up his shot. "To my brother and sister, for always standing by me, no matter what," he began, his expression sober as his eyes glanced from one to the other. Sympathetic smiles spread across their faces, and again I was sure that there was an untold story behind the looks they exchanged.

"To Miss Swan's health," Edward continued, his eyes capturing mine once again. My heart fluttered like one of the many bees lured into his garden, even as I was incensed and perplexed by his inability to simply say my name. "May she be healed and whole once again." His gaze was unbearably intense, as if he were scrutinizing the landscape of my soul and discovering the remnants of a war zone there.

_Whole. _How did he know that I'm not, and that I haven't been in so very long? Could he really see inside me somehow? There was no way he could know the truth. No one does, except you and Charlie.

I stared at him with a measure of the fear and trepidation he'd shown me earlier, suddenly feeling like I was the one whose innermost secrets had been exposed. His eyes seemed to be both inquisitive and reassuring in that moment, like he was trying to figure out if he and I were carrying around the same type of emotional baggage. Something told me that we were, though I still had no clue what his might contain.

Finally Edward turned to my roommate, and he finished his toast with, "And to Angela, for being a good friend to Isabella."

How the heck could he know that? I certainly wasn't going to argue that truth, though. We all clinked our glasses together, Emmett and Alice loudly emitting "Cheers!" and "Bottoms up!" as we threw our heads back and let the whiskey's fire engulf our throats. I relished the warmth as the liquid burned through my belly and slowly seeped through my limbs. It swirled with all the beer I'd chugged earlier and tingled through my veins, creating a pleasant buzzing sensation in my ears.

_Maybe I really am a bee_, I mused, giggling out loud at the silly thought. Edward looked over at me again with a bemused smile at the sound. I decided he really was the most beautiful kind of flower, turning the pink petals of his cheeks toward me. _If only I could be his sun,_ was my next alcohol-induced wish. But there was no way that this man would ever revolve around me. I was quite certain that if anyone was exerting gravitational pull in this situation, it was him.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, the smile still holding his lips its sweet embrace. _God, he really is the sun. He's dazzling, _I thought. In that moment, I was dazzled.

Or maybe just drunk.

"I'm great," I replied emphatically with a loopy grin. The tension between us seemed to have been washed away by the Maker's Mark; or perhaps I was just too tired to care what Edward Cullen thought of me anymore.

Emmett's hearty laugh cut through the humming in my ears as he joked, "Okay, no more shots for Bella."

That remark prompted the concerned, probing look from Edward again, and my happy buzz began to dissipate. Lord, he probably thought I was a drunken idiot. Next he'd be telling me I shouldn't drive home. Which was probably true, but that was beside the point. Knowing Angela, she would soon switch to Cokes and transport us safely back to our duplex at the end of the evening.

"So Bella, what do you do?" Alice suddenly asked from across the table. "Are you still in school?"

Oh, no. Here it was: the million dollar question I was hoping no Cullen would ever ask. I'm a terrible liar. I can't think of a quick fib to save my life. But in that moment, I was ready to champion a career choice as a stripper rather than have to admit that I work for a record company.

"No, I graduated a couple of months ago," I said, measuring my words. "I'm doing some paid internship work right now," I added vaguely. That wasn't entirely a lie. I had interned with Java Noise during my senior year at U-Dub, and A&R manager Rosalie Hale hired me as her fulltime assistant after graduation. She hoped to move up in the ranks, and wanted to groom me to take over her position in that event.

"Oh, that's great," Alice smiled encouragingly. "What kind of work do you do?"

I concentrated on Alice's expectant face and ignored Edward's curious one as I quietly replied, "I'm an Artist and Repertoire scout for the Seattle branch of an indie label, Java Noise. Maybe you've heard of it," I ended uncertainly, my last sentence sounding more like a question than a statement.

All three pairs of Cullen eyes stared at me blankly for a moment, round and slightly stunned. I couldn't bear to glance at the green ones to the left, so I concentrated on Alice's hazel eyes as they slowly filled with comprehension, then excitement.

"Yeah, I've heard of it!" she exclaimed with a huge grin. "So you look for new talent for the label, right? Wow, that's awesome!"

"That's really cool, Bella," Emmett concurred, nudging my arm congenially with his elbow. "So, are you working tonight? Checking out the unsigned singers?"

I took a deep breath and shifted my eyes to his twinkling blue ones. "Well, sort of, yeah," I admitted, cursing myself for leaving my neglected beer on our table across the room. I needed it to hide behind, to drown in, before I had to face the poisonous green arrows I could feel trained on me from the other side of the table.

"So how does that work?" Alice went on excitedly, leaning toward me. "You check out amateur performers at clubs and bars, and then report back to the record company which ones you think are worth signing?"

"Something like that," I answered, desperately wishing Alice would stop alienating me from her brother with every word she dragged out of my mouth. "My boss, the A&R manager, checks out the artists I recommend in person, and if she thinks they have potential, we approach them about the possibility of signing with our company. If they're interested, we bring in upper management to hear them and to begin negotiations. But most of the time, we get so many unsolicited press kits sent to us that we've usually heard a band or artist's demo before we make the decision to go see them live. They usually come to us rather than the other way around."

I took a deep breath and continued hurriedly, "But I like coming to open mic nights, because sometimes when artists don't feel like they're being judged, they give a more honest performance. I've heard some really amazing music at places like this because the performances were just pure artistic expression. No self-consciousness, no nervousness, no desire to impress. Just… honesty. And that's really the kind of music we want to produce at our company. Something that's real, that can touch people. Music can change lives. It can save people."

I stopped awkwardly, realizing that I had just rambled on far longer than was necessary. I had also revealed myself in a way I hadn't intended, though perhaps they would not pick up on that.

I should have known better. When I finally gave in and looked at Edward, his eyes had melted to a liquid jade, and he regarded me so seriously that I almost wanted to weep with frustration. _Talk to me. Explain yourself to me. Stop holding me at arm's length so we can figure out what it is between us that keeps pulling us toward each other. Please tell me you feel it, too. _These were the fruitless pleas that peppered my thoughts; thoughts I could never hope to convey with even the most open gaze back at him.

Once again, Angela came to my rescue. "Bella is a natural at spotting people with real potential. One of the bands she found last year is about to release their first CD, and the buzz for them is huge. She just has a knack for knowing what will reach people. She knows quality when she hears it," she finished proudly, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"I don't doubt that," Alice concurred. "After all, she recognized how great Edward was tonight, right?"

"Alice," Edward admonished under his breath, as if willing her to be quiet.

"Better than great," I agreed, piercing Edward with a look that I could only hope was as unnerving as the stares he'd nailed me with all night. "But I would never try to pressure anyone who wasn't interested in a music career," I amended quickly.

"Bet you were surprised to see little Eddie here on stage, weren't you?" Emmett asked me, giving his younger brother a teasing grin. Edward bristled visibly at the nickname. Suddenly I began to understand why he was so averse to shortening my name, even though I'd asked him to.

"Very," I replied. "I had no idea who was playing tonight. I never do. I just make the rounds to different places with open mic nights, hoping for a pleasant surprise. And by the way, Angela _is_ an excellent friend, because she comes to keep me company often."

She shook her head and laughed. "Like I need incentive to have a drink and listen to some great music," she downplayed.

"Yeah, well, it's not always great," I snickered. She and I had just heard some real duds last Wednesday. It was all we could do to keep from laughing over the recordings I was trying to make. Eventually I just gave up and we went home early.

"Well, it sounds like a fun job to me," Alice asserted. "If you're ever in need of another wing-girl, call me up! I'll be here for another six weeks before grad school starts."

She looked excited about the prospect. I couldn't help but be excited about it as well, but for ulterior motives that I really didn't want to think about at the moment.

"Sure, I'd like that," I agreed, returning Alice's expectant smile. I purposely averted my eyes from Edward's face, because I was certain I would not like the expression I'd find there.

The lights began to dim a bit in the bar, and I looked up to see another performer ready to take the stage. There was no way I was going to whip out my recorder in front of the Cullens. Edward would probably have a coronary if he knew I had captured his performance without his consent.

"Thank you so much for the drinks. This was great," I began, rising from my bar stool. "But I do need to concentrate on the other musicians and maybe take some notes for my boss," I explained, nodding my head back toward our abandoned table. By some miracle, no one had stolen it yet. Apparently the half-full pitcher and glasses we'd left behind had kept the patrons at bay for a bit.

The Cullens all murmured "sure" and "of course" as Angela rose from her seat to join me. I tried not to look at Edward before I left, but that required the kind of Herculean effort I could not muster. When my eyes met his one last time, I could not read them.

"See you next Saturday," he said as I finally turned to leave. He remembered when my next appointment was. Was that normal? Did he remember when all his clients' next visits were scheduled?

I nodded and tried not to read more into that, though it was a losing battle. I felt his eyes on me all the way back to our table. In fact, I could sense his presence keenly throughout the evening, pulling me, begging me to look back at him. I fought the urge for the next two hours, glad for my digital recorder, as it would be the only way for me to accurately judge anyone else I heard the rest of the night. My concentration was reduced to a crumb. Every nerve in my body seemed to be attuned to the shaggy-haired Adonis seated across the bar.

I was actually relieved when they left. A surge of adrenalin shot through me as Edward headed for the door, the sight of him after resisting a peek for so long sparking an electrical charge in every deprived cell of my body. When he gave me a glance, a crooked half-smile and a wave, the shockwave only intensified.

The Cullens were halfway out the door when Alice suddenly turned and ran back to where Angela and I sat. Her eyes were gleaming fervently as she pushed a piece of paper at me across the table.

"It was great meeting you both," she said breathlessly, though her attention was aimed mostly at me. "I'd really like to hang out with you and talk. I was serious about coming with you while you're working some time, if you'd like."

"Sure, that would be great," I agreed, looking down at the piece of paper. On it was scrawled her name and cell phone number.

"You should definitely come here next Friday night," she continued with her contagious enthusiasm. "Edward's going to play again, AND his best friend, Jasper Whitlock, is playing too. They are so freakin' good together! Jasper is amazingly talented. He's starting his own band. He's got tons of potential, and none of Edward's misplaced humility," she said with a laugh. "Definitely worth your time."

"Good to know, thanks!" I told her. The tiny tremors traveled through me once more at the thought of seeing Edward perform again. And I would love to be able to pick Alice's brain about her brother, though I felt a little guilty at the thought of using her like that. She seems like a nice person, someone I could be friends with regardless of who her brothers are.

After Alice left, Angela raised an eyebrow at me. "Edward's sister seems awfully anxious to get to know you better. I think she's polishing up her bow and arrow, ready to play a little Cupid."

"You're crazy," I scoffed. "The guy can barely stand me. He won't even use my nickname, he's so hell-bent on keeping things impersonal between us."

Angela merely laughed. "He is the classic Shakespearean example of protesting too much. He's about this close to losing any sort of professional distance he's trying to keep between you." She held up her thumb and index finger, squeezed together, to illustrate her point.

I shook my head in denial. "The way he kept glaring at me all night, I think you're way off base."

She laughed even harder. "Pardon my French, but have you never had a guy eye-fuck you before? He wants you. Badly. And by the way, you were doing some pretty obvious eye-fucking right back at him."

I stared at Angela in horror. "No, I wasn't. I was just trying to figure him out. He's impossible to read."

"Then you're trying too hard," Angela sighed, taking a swig of the Coke I knew she'd order. "What's going on between you two was pretty easy for the rest of us to figure out. Alice honed in on it in about two minutes. I watched the wheels turning in her head the entire time we were sitting with them."

I shook my head again, still skeptical. "I didn't see anything of the kind."

"That's because you were too busy boning Edward Cullen with your eyeballs," she teased.

"Stop," I moaned. I hoped I wasn't that obvious. Was I? And no matter what she said, Edward was not that obvious, either. Whatever his eyes were trying to convey, it wasn't just about sex, if even at all. I knew I was probably doomed to spend the rest of the week replaying this evening in my mind and trying to assign all sorts of meaning to it that wasn't even there.

Thankfully, I was swamped at work and had no time to daydream about Edward Cullen. I filled the evenings with as many impromptu music gigs as I could find, though I heard nothing as tremendous as his performance had been. I didn't call Alice to go with me. I felt like I needed as much distance from the Cullens as I could get, so that I could look at Edward with objective eyes the next time I saw him.

I 'm glad I did. Because what I saw tonight put an effective end to any sort of crazy thoughts that might have crept into my mind unbidden.

I got to Billy's early and found the most obscure table I could, in a tiny booth slightly hidden from the main bar. I was terrified that Edward would think I was stalking him, showing up here again less than a week later to hear him play.

As I slowly nursed a Guinness Stout from my little nook, I watched the door and waited. My heart leapt into my throat when I finally saw him enter the bar, as glorious and tattered as ever, in another nondescript, over-washed t-shirt and grungy jeans. This time he wore deeply creased and weathered Doc Martens on his feet, the laces again refusing to stay tied. I wondered if he bothered to tie them at all. And how did he manage not to trip over the stray shoestrings?

Edward was followed by a handsome guy with longish, wavy blond hair and a toothy, lopsided grin similar to Edward's. He must be Jasper, the guy Alice had told us about. He held the door open for two more people, and my heart plummeted quickly to my stomach as they breezed into the bar. Tall and Amazonian, a beautiful blonde and redhead sauntered in and followed Edward and his friend to a table across the room. They seated themselves blessedly out of my line of vision, so that I wouldn't have to look at them, nor be discovered in my little alcove. But I had seen all I needed to. Both of the women were so out of my league, I almost laughed at the absurd idea that Edward Cullen would ever be attracted to me instead.

Emmett and Alice entered Billy's moments later, scanning the room for their brother. I slunk back in my seat, though I was sure I would go unnoticed. Smiles of recognition soon spread across their faces, and they took off in the direction of Edward and the others. _How cozy, _I thought. Edward and Jasper were no doubt trying to impress their dates with their talent, and the other Cullens were here to cheer their brother on as always. Obviously Angela had been way off base about Alice's intentions where Edward and I were concerned. There was no "Edward and I." That much was now crystal clear, if it hadn't been before.

I stayed through Edward and Jasper's set. They each performed solo, and though I enjoyed Jasper's unusual style, Edward still touched my heart with his impassioned singing in a way that few people ever have. They worked well together as a duet, Jasper's resonant bass complementing Edward's tenor vibrato. Their rhythm guitar dueling was excellent as well. The crowd ate them up once again, and why not? There was little not to love.

I couldn't will myself to stay after they had finished playing. My powers of concentration were even less tonight than last week after hearing Edward perform. I could think of nothing but what might be going on at their table across the room, wondering if it was less stilted and tense than our meeting had been last week.

Of course it was. I allowed myself a small peek before I sneaked out the door. Edward and the blonde had their heads together, and their faces were all relaxed smiles. Edward was talking animatedly about something, his beautiful hands gesturing as he told his story. Everyone at the table turned their attention to him, and by the time he was done, they all laughed, as if he had said something hilarious. I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. Why was he so open with them, and so restrained with me? I felt like the starched white collar of Edward's lab coat, uncomfortably constricting him, keeping him from being himself.

Disappointed resignation settled over me as I drove home. Perhaps things are better this way. If I want Edward to help me, then I need to be able to relax around him. The heightened attraction I feel for him would only stand in the way of that. Building all sorts of impossible romantic scenarios around him is not only pointless, but foolish as well. There is a reason Edward Cullen has been keeping me at bay. Now I can see clearly what that is.

I am strangely calm and increasingly detached as I contemplate seeing him tomorrow morning. This is a good thing, I think. I need to concentrate on my recovery. You know how long it's been, Mom, and how much I need it. I think I finally have my head on straight about this guy, and what I really need to accomplish here.

But if I'm being honest with myself, there's a new ache inside me that has nothing to do with my back. It feels like I'm about to replace one pain with another. I hope I'm wrong about that. More than ever, I can't afford to have feelings for Edward Cullen. I have to be strong. I know you're with me in spirit. I'm going to hang on to that.

Wish me luck. I'll let you know what happens.

Love you so much,

_Bella_

*_Sorry I Am_, music and lyrics by Ani DiFranco, copyright BUG MUSIC OBO RIGHTEOUS BABE MUSIC


	5. Luck, part 1

**A/N: Chapter 5 has two parts, so I thought I'd go ahead and post the first one. It's a shorty.**

**Thank you to everyone who has left such wonderful feedback-I am more appreciative than you know. **

**As always, I own nothing, while Stephenie Meyer seems to own most things in the known universe.**

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, July 17, 2010**

The first thing I did when I got home tonight was go up on the roof and have a cigarette.

I know, I know. You hated it when I smoked. I hate it when I smoke. But sometimes that acrid burn in my chest just feels so fucking good. I'm not sure how filling my lungs with smoke seems to clear my head, but there you go. Just one of life's ugly little ironies.

If any occasion warrants a slip-up, this is it. I feel like I'm going to come out of my skin and I'm not even sure why. Alice is right-I don't get this way over women. It just doesn't happen. I can't figure out why this girl makes me so self-conscious that I can't even speak to her like a normal human being.

Actually, that's not true. I know exactly why. She saw me. Really _saw_ me tonight. It's one thing for me to let it bleed for a group of strangers I'll never see again, or for my family who loves me unconditionally. But it's quite another to have a client see me in such a revealing light.

It's more than that, of course. It's the way she sees inside me that scares the hell out of me. It feels like she knows me, somehow. Like all my secrets are laid bare when her eyes bore into mine. I think I could tell her about you, and she'd get it. She'd understand. But I don't want anyone to get close enough to me to be able to do that. I'm not ready. But the hell of it is, if I'm not ready now, when will I ever be ready?

Alice figured out what was up right away, naturally. I have to hand it to her; she restrained herself admirably after Isabella Swan and her friend left our table tonight. I could see her nearly bursting at the seams, waiting to interrogate me about her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Unsurprisingly, she attacked me with the fervor of a Tasmanian devil the minute Emmett went to the men's room.

"You _like_ her!" she squealed, eyes shining triumphantly, as if she had discovered the secrets of the Sphinx.

"Of course, I like her. She's a nice girl," I answered with feigned indifference.

"Oh, no. You _like _her-like her," she said with innuendo-laden relish.

"Alice, you sound like you're twelve years old."

"And you're acting like it, pushing her away and pretending she annoys you. Edward, I haven't seen you look at a girl that way since…well, _ever_, now that I think about it," she declared. Her eyes grew wide with wonder. "My God, it finally happened… you met a woman who found a chink in your armor! I've been praying for this day to arrive, and here it is. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!" She turned her eyes heavenward and pressed her palms together as if in prayer.

"Put down the crack pipe, Alice. You're hallucinating. And even if you weren't, do I need to remind you that she's a client? That makes her off limits."

"Edward Cullen, do not tell me you're going to use ethics as an excuse not to pursue the only girl I've seen you look at like a human being in years."

"I'd lose my license if I hooked up with a customer, and you know it. Or do you not give a damn because it's not a medical license? You sure as hell wouldn't encourage Emmett to date a patient," I spat. "And I'm sure that's why you waited for him to leave the table before you even brought it up-because you know the whole subject is verboten."

"I know," she conceded with a pout. Seconds later, her eyes lit up again. "Send her to Kate for treatment! Then you can ask Bella out."

"Stop, already," I sighed, refilling my glass from the pitcher. "I don't want to send her to Katrina. I know I can help her, and it's better if Emmett and I work as a team."

"Okay, fine. Heal her first, and then date her," she grinned.

I gave her an exasperated glare for what seemed like the tenth time this evening. "You do realize that any of those ideas are considered sexual misconduct for a health practitioner, according to Washington state law," I reminded her.

"Edward, come o-o-on," she pleaded. "She's perfect for you, I can tell. You both love music, and clearly neither of you suffer fools gladly. I love her already because she's the only girl I've ever seen who can make you nervous. This is a first! And by the way, you're kind of a jerk when you're nervous. But in a sort of cute, growly way. Like a hibernating bear who's just been poked with a stick. I think you're in need of a good poking," she finished slyly.

I considered denying that Isabella Swan had any effect on me, but there really was no point. My sister knows me better than anyone, and even though she was away at school through most of what went down the past few years, she still knows how I think and how I react to things. We have almost a strange telepathy, as if we can zone in on each other's brain waves. It makes me want to strangle her half the time, yet it's comforting it its own weird way.

I definitely couldn't deny that I'd behaved like a complete jackass when I refused to call Isabella Swan by her nickname, but I knew that the minute I did, I'd fall all the way down the rabbit hole. It would be one more step toward familiarity with her that would only encourage me to want more. If I called her the name that the people closest to her did, I would want to be one of those people. I couldn't allow myself such a luxury. It was a good thing Alice hadn't caught that part of my conversation with Ms. Swan, or she never would have let me live it down.

"There's no point in discussing this, Alice. There can't be anything between us."

She let out an irritated sigh. "There already is, you ding-dong. Fighting it is only going to cause heartache for you both."

"You're definitely jumping the gun here. I barely know the girl," I reminded her. "And what makes you think she's interested in me, anyway? She didn't even try to sit next to me. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere else than at this table."

"That's because she was as nervous as you were. You were like a perfect mirror of each other. She couldn't stop staring at you. Trust me, I am well-acquainted with the symptoms of those who have fallen under the Edward Cullen spell. But what shocks the hell out of me is that this time, it's mutual. You are finally getting a taste of your own medicine," she said gleefully. "I really want to go over there and hand that girl a medal. She just proved that you're a Real Boy, Edward. With a Real Heart and everything!" She jabbed my left pectoral with her index finger a couple of times for emphasis.

"That's enough," I growled at her. "If I've been wooden the past few years, you know exactly why."

She relented then. "I know. But it's been awhile since I've seen anyone get to you. You built a pretty big wall around that heart of yours. I just don't want it to atrophy in there."

"Don't worry. It's beating just fine," I assured her. Thankfully Emmett returned then, effectively ending our discussion. Even Alice knew that any breach of conduct in his fledgling chiropractic business would not be taken lightly by our brother. He's easygoing about most things, but when it comes right down to it, he takes his responsibilities as seriously as I do. He'd be the first one brandishing a butcher knife to emasculate me if I ruined our business partnership by not being able to keep my dick in my pants.

He's never had any reason to worry about it until now. This is the first time I've ever been seriously tempted to break the code of ethics that I've sworn to uphold. It isn't just some physical attraction I feel for Isabella. There's this nagging emotional undercurrent that tugs at my gut whenever she's around. I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering to her table the rest of the night, and I kept hearing her words in my head again, defending her job when she knew how I felt about the recording industry. I mean, I have nothing personal against it, or what she does. It's just not for me. But I could tell that it pained her to have to reveal her profession to me after the callous way I'd dismissed it. She was probably afraid of offending me. It's true that at first I felt duped, like she had somehow pulled a fast one on me by showing up tonight with a secret agenda. But I quickly realized that she had no way of knowing I would be there, nor that I like to write and perform music as a hobby. It was pure coincidence that brought us together this way. Or kismet, if I'm to believe a born romantic like Alice.

Either way, I like that she stood up for herself. And by the time she was done describing what music means to her, she had me by the heartstrings, and a few other parts as well. She's as passionate about it as I am. When she insisted that music could save people, I knew she was talking about herself. To say my curiosity was piqued is an understatement. I'm aching to know what she's been through that made her say that. I wonder if it had something to do with the car accident. Maybe she wasn't alone in that car. Maybe something else had happened that day that wounded her more deeply than a back injury ever could.

That's why I can't shake the idea that she and I could have something together. That we might be able to help each other. That I could confide in her about what happened with you, and she wouldn't pity me or judge me like everyone else does. Maybe I could find true empathy with this girl.

But not now. And not in the foreseeable future. At this moment, I have to concentrate on just being her therapist and working on her back next Saturday morning. Nothing more, nothing less. No letting my mind wander to other parts of her body that I can't touch; no blurting personal questions that I have no right to ask. A little small talk, maybe. But that's it. Right now, it can only be business-the business of making her better. There's no point in making any other conjectures beyond that.

Satisfied with my mental pep talk, I decided that smoking on the roof was not altogether a bad thing. I took my pack of Camel Lights out of my jeans pocket and peered into its opening under the dim moonlight. I was just about to shake the last cigarette out of the pack when I suddenly felt something warm and heavy brush against my pant leg.

"Fucking rats!" I exclaimed in a rather unmanly tenor as I jumped away from the offending critter. But the pair of glowing yellow eyes that peered up at me were far larger than those of a rodent. A plaintive "meow" soon met my ears, pulling a relieved sigh from my smoky lungs.

"Geezus, cat," I said, reaching down and giving it a quick scratch behind the ears. "You scared me for a minute. You're not gonna tell anyone what a pussy I am though, right? I'll leave that title to you."

The cat blinked its iridescent eyes at me knowingly, as if to tell me my secret was safe with it.

"What are you doing all the way up here on the roof, anyway? You'll find dinner a lot easier to catch on the ground floor, or in the basement," I told the feline as it rubbed back and forth along my legs, probably hoping I'd hand it a snack. I was pretty sure the cat would be plenty well fed with the mice and rats that I constantly fight in this place.

I still can't believe I convinced Mom to let me live in one of her family's old buildings in the industrial district. I guess she probably would have given in to just about any request I made back then. Once home to a now-defunct textile mill owned by her ancestors, the rustic brick building had been rented to a number of companies over the years but was now empty. She had planned to sell the property, but when I was looking for my own place after starting Massage School, I convinced her to let me convert part of the upper floor into a spacious apartment. I refinished the hardwood floors myself and waxed them until they shone again with their original luster. I tore out the old drywall to reveal beautiful exposed brick walls beneath. Jazz, Emmett and Dad helped on the weekends, and it was the best therapy I could have had at the time. I sometimes miss getting lost in those kinds of physical tasks-the ones that require too much concentration for me to dwell on the past. I suppose I could build some walls to create more separate rooms, but I like the big, open feel of the place the way it is now. Mom always jokes that I could rent it out as a bowling alley if I want to make some extra money. As it is, I feel blessed that I don't have to pay rent like most guys my age do.

As I stood contemplating having another cigarette, I looked down at the cat massaging a figure eight around my ankles. It appeared to be a large, long-haired orange tabby, from what I could see under the moon's pale rays. It purred as it rubbed its scent on me, as if that would make me warm up to it and give it something a little more gourmet to eat than water rat.

"I hate cats, you know," I informed the animal. "I'm not falling for that cuddly routine, so you might as well give up."

It responded by purring more loudly and pushing its nose ruthlessly against my shin.

I sighed, bent down and gave it another half-hearted scratch behind the ears. "You're relentless, you know that?" The cat looked up at me with a knowing and expectant look. It was confident it would win this battle.

"Not tonight, you won't," I mumbled in answer, giving it a pat on the head before heading for the door to the stairwell. I'd had enough intrusions into my life for one day.


	6. Luck, part 2

**A/N: Kate and Tanya are not sisters in this story. Not even remotely related. I think I can get away with this since I believe the two were not actually related, but only thought of themselves as sisters in Stephenie Meyer's original canon. My Kate and Tanya never even met.**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted or favorited my story, especially since the site lost my traffic stats the past 5 days. Those who left feedback are the only ones I know for sure visited, so I definitely appreciated it!**

**And now on with the rest of Edward's tortured thoughts.**

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, July 24, 2010**

How did life get so complicated in just one short week?

It started out benignly enough. Work during the day, rehearsals with Jazz in the evening. We were set to play again last night at Billy's and wanted to change it up a bit, so we tried to learn a couple of each other's songs. I didn't think of Isabella Swan once. Well, it would be more accurate to say that whenever the thought of her popped into my misbehaving brain, I was able to squelch it and replace it quickly with something totally unrelated.

It was working quite well until Thursday night, when Alice called to confirm our plans for the next evening. I told her that Katrina wanted to catch our set, and she was planning to bring Victoria with her. Jazz and I had offered to give the girls a lift, and Emmett had agreed to pick up Alice from the ferry and meet us there. Everything sounded fine until Alice had to go and put a bug in my ear.

"Don't be surprised if a certain pretty brunette shows up, too," she said portentously.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my stomach dropping. I knew instantly what, or rather whom, she was talking about.

"I told Bella Swan that you were playing at Billy's tomorrow night," she replied, her voice brimming with giddy triumph.

"So you didn't leave your cell phone at the table last Saturday night after all," I surmised as I remembered her excuse for running back inside the bar after we left. "You went back to talk to Isabella, right?"

"Not everything in the world is about you, you know. I want her to check out Jasper. He's awesome, and unlike you, he's not allergic to record companies. If his band gets off the ground, it could be very advantageous knowing someone like Bella."

"That is not why you told her to come," I countered. "Shit, Alice, when are you going to stop interfering in my life? I seriously can't wait until you're back in school."

"Whatever," she said dismissively. "You love me, and you secretly love my match-making. I know you want to see her again. This is your chance to redeem yourself with her in a social setting. You'll be thanking me by this time tomorrow."

"Unlikely," I grumbled. Anxiety began gnawing at the pit of my stomach, and I hated that she was right. I did want to see Isabella Swan again, and though I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge it, I'd been looking forward to my next session with her all week.

I tried not to give the idea of seeing her again at Billy's too much thought, but my subconscious was way ahead of me. It conjured her up in the most delectable dream imaginable that night-not at the bar, but in my bed-and I awoke with a raging hard-on to prove it. The dream was so realistic that my lips were still tingling from the sensation of her mouth on mine, my skin hungry for the warmth of hers. I absently reached down and stroked myself, continuing the dream in my still-murky mind. God, what it would feel like to be inside her, her arms and legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper….

And like some pathetic teenaged boy, I was reaching for the tissue box minutes later when my busy hand brought my erotic fantasy to its natural conclusion. Immediately after that, I mentally cursed my baby sister for setting in motion what could only be a runaway train headed for disaster. How the hell could I impartially treat a patient who was sparking such vivid sexual fantasies in my mind?

I spent the entire day trying to push those kinds of thoughts out of my head and ignore the anticipation building inside me for that evening at Billy's. I had no idea what I would say to her if I saw her. But I was going to try like hell to at least be more civil toward the girl than I had been the last time. There was no reason why we couldn't be friends, I reasoned. Emmett seems to have no problem having platonic relationships with women, or any of his patients, for that matter. It's always come so easily for him, and I'm not sure why. He's at least as handsome as I, but with an easy affability about him that I could never quite master. I have yet to meet a woman who wanted to be nothing more than my friend, other than Katrina. I know how arrogant and insufferable that sounds, trust me. But I can't think of a single friendship I've had with a woman that didn't deteriorate into mixed signals, misunderstandings and hurt feelings one way or another.

The night at the brew pub went well, and the six of us had a good time. My set with Jasper was decent, even though I messed up the lyrics a bit on one of his songs that I don't know quite well enough yet.

Still, I couldn't help but be disappointed that Isabella didn't show. I tried not to look at the front door every time it opened and shut, but it was a losing battle. I felt completely keyed up, exactly like I had last weekend when I saw her face in the crowd. And I could have sworn I felt her eyes on me while I was singing, like drops of chocolate melting on my skin; but when I scanned the tables this time, I saw no one familiar.

Shortly after our set, I was almost positive I saw the swing of her long chestnut hair as the bar door closed behind someone who was just leaving. The unnerving tremor that shot down my back at the sight of it seemed proof of her presence. But would she really have avoided talking to me if she had been here tonight?

The thought perturbed me more than it should have. I would have to make sure that I made her feel more comfortable at our appointment tomorrow than I had the last time I'd seen her. I was reminded that my attraction to her was a paltry annoyance in light of her medical issues. She needed me to be her therapist, not some drooling lecher.

I felt remarkably calm and focused this morning when the alarm went off early. I was glad I had two appointments before hers; both fairly new clients with issues that forced me to concentrate fully on the task at hand. I had no time to be distracted or apprehensive about seeing her. I was quite Zen about my third and final appointment by the time I'd finished up the paperwork for the second.

All of that went completely out the window the minute I went to the reception area to escort my second client out. There sat Isabella, text-messaging on her phone, a curtain of hair partially obscuring her face. She looked up when she heard my footsteps, the silky curtain falling away; and I tripped and fell right into the well of her dark eyes. Figuratively, of course. But it was unsettling how she seemed to swallow me whole with one glance. I was beginning to wish that Jessica worked on Saturdays so that she could run interference for me.

Isabella smiled somewhat timidly at me, and I realized that maybe Alice was right-the girl was as nervous around me as I was her. Somehow that knowledge was all I needed to relax a little and give her a smile in return.

I'll be right with you, Miss Swan," I told her. "I just need to prepare the room." I hated how insufferably formal I sounded. Why couldn't I say her nickname? I couldn't even think it to myself. It felt like the only plug in a dam that was ready to crumble with the slightest breach.

"That's fine," she answered quickly, her anxious expression easing. I reminded myself that there was no reason for us to be so uptight around each other. The tension would only be detrimental to her treatment. It was my job to make sure she felt at ease around me. How I felt was immaterial.

After retreating to fit the massage table with clean bedding, I went back to the reception area and put my gentlest smile to work on Ms. Swan.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked her. "Have you had any problems this past week?"

"No, not really," she replied, putting her phone away and rising from her chair. "I do feel a little stiff and achy in spots, I guess. It kind of feels like my back wants to go back to the way it was before you and Emmett worked on me."

"Unfortunately, that's probably exactly what's happening," I said, motioning for her to lead the way down the hall to the massage room. I scrutinized her gait as she walked ahead of me, and I could see that her hips were still out of alignment. I could also see that her ass was high and round and firm and practically taunting me to make a grab for it.

Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck.

I took a deep breath and continued, "That's why I'll need to see you regularly for awhile. Emmett can manipulate your bones easily enough, but your muscles will take longer to adjust. That's where I come in."

She stopped and turned to look up at me expectantly after entering the massage room. I tried not to dwell on how pretty she looked, bare-faced and unpretentious in her casual t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. Her naked lips were an incandescent shade of pink.

"When's your next appointment with Emmett?" I questioned her, forcing my mind to stay on track.

"The middle of next week," she replied. She gave me a quizzical look, a tiny line forming between her dainty brows.

"That's good," I told her. "I'm going to check my appointment book to see if I can fit you in right before or after, if that will work with your schedule."

"Sure," she agreed with a nod. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I answered smoothly, not wanting to alarm her. "I just think you shouldn't wait too long for your next adjustment, that's all."

"Why?" she demanded, the crease in her forehead deepening.

"Well, your hips are still a little 'off,'" I explained, taking a tentative step closer. I took a deep breath and placed my hands below her tiny waist, gingerly pressing with my thumbs until I found the edges of her hipbones through her jeans. I thought I heard a small gasp escape her lips, which I tried desperately not to acknowledge. I was already having a hard enough time concentrating on keeping my fingers off of her ass.

"Your right hip is a little too high, while the left is turned forward a bit," I continued. I pressed carefully where the problem areas were, trying to show her what I was talking about. "I suspect your leg length is off, and possibly your tailbone is tilted. This explains a lot of the muscle twists that I felt in your back last week. All your soft tissues are compensating for the misalignment. After awhile, they become accustomed to it, and they work against the changes that Emmett makes when he adjusts you. That's why I want to work with Emmett as a team to try to get you straightened out. Literally," I added with a soft chuckle, reluctantly releasing her from my grip.

She let out an unconvincing laugh, but her brow refused to unfurl. "Wow, it's a miracle I'm still walking around upright," she mumbled as her eyes drifted dejectedly to the floor. A lock of hair fell over her face, and I fought the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

"The body has amazing ways of compensating to keep you going," I told her. "But it also has an amazing power to heal itself. Don't worry, Isabella… we're going to get you back in fighting form, I promise. It won't happen overnight, but it _will_ happen."

She smiled and nodded, but still looked unconvinced. Then and there, I made it my personal mission to take away her doubt and erase the worry from her lovely face.

"Are you ready to get started?" I asked. She bit her lip as she nodded again. I watched the pink deepen in her lower lip as she finally released it, and I wondered idly how it would taste.

Fucking hell.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the chair, the wall, the fresh flannel sheet draped over the massage table-anything but her.

"I'll leave you to get ready. I want you to lie on your back this time so you don't get queasy. I'll be back in a few minutes," I said hurriedly before leaving the room. No way in hell was I going to tell her to undress and leave her shirt and jeans on the chair, or give her the option of leaving on her bra. None of the things I usually said to clients seemed benign anymore. Any mention of her disrobing so that I could touch her had taken on a lurid undertone in my mind, tainted by my own desires that were stirring from the depths of my soul like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

I wanted her. The fact was impossible to deny any longer. I tried to come to grips with the inescapable truth as I washed my hands thoroughly in the bathroom, my fingers flexing in anticipation of caressing her smooth skin for the next hour.

_So you're attracted to her…so what? _I argued with myself. _You can still do your job and leave her none the wiser._

I really didn't have any choice. It wasn't like the girl could read my mind, anyway. I could keep my thoughts to myself and still be an effective therapist. I took a deep breath and went back to the massage room, rapping gently on the door.

"Come in," came the muffled reply. I entered the door and closed it softly behind me, looking warily over to the table. She lay looking up at me with those big, dark eyes, the sheet pulled up to her neck, her bare arms clasped atop the flannel over her stomach. I swallowed hard and stealthily approached the table, as if she were a fawn that I might scare away with any sudden sound or movement.

Her eyes didn't leave mine until I made my way to the back of the table and stood behind her. "I'm going to begin with your neck and shoulders. We'll see how Emmett's adjustments are holding."

"Okay," she agreed, closing her eyes. I wound my fingers through the silk of her hair, stretching them along the base of her skull in examination. Her neck was out again already. I held my tongue and worked on the muscles surrounding the misaligned bones instead, willing them to relax and unwind. I felt my own body following suit, for I was now in my element.

I soon got lost in the work, as I always do. The apprehension and confusion of the past week disappeared. There was only her flesh and mine now; her body's will dissolving under that of my insistent fingers. It may be hard to believe, but in that moment, there was nothing sexual about what I was doing to her. It was the most sensual experience in the world, but in the most compassionate, healing sense of the word. I felt her yielding to me more thoroughly with every touch, and yet I was the one who felt powerless. Her body was the guide; I simply followed and straightened the path of her twisted muscles as I went.

We barely spoke. When I slid my hands under her right shoulder blade, she tried to move her arm out of the way; I murmured for her not to worry, that I would do all the work. She relaxed and let my fingers probe along her spine and ribs, and I noted to myself that Emmett would have to do more work here as well. I slowly stretched and pulled her contracted flesh, working from her spine outward. I then repeated the procedure on her left side, and it responded more readily to the suggestion of my hands. Her muscles were still somewhat resistant to the therapy, and I knew it would take a few more sessions until her body got used to being "told" what to do. It would help immensely when her bones began to stay in alignment better, too.

I realized that I hadn't reset the sound machine, and I wondered if music would help Isabella loosen up a bit.

"Would you rather listen to something else than the ocean sounds?" I asked her softly, taking a short break and allowing my gaze to rest on her adorable freckled nose a moment. Then her eyes opened and arrested my attention completely.

"No, it's fine. I like the beach. It's relaxing," she assured me.

"I know the sound machine is a little hokey, but it works," I shrugged with a half-grin. "I can switch to music though, if you'd like."

She shook her head. "I'm good, really. Is there something wrong? Am I not responding the right way?" The wrinkle took up residence between her eyebrows again.

"No, you're improving, honestly. I don't want you worry about that. I want you to relax completely, if possible. Imagine a place or a time that always made you feel happy, and concentrate on that," I suggested. "I'm going to try to work on your lower back just a little, so be sure to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable. If you feel the slightest pinch or twinge, tell me immediately, okay?"

"I will," she promised. I tore my eyes away from hers and moved to her right side again, sliding my hands under the middle of her back and beginning the slow push and pull to unravel her twists. I could feel her eyes on me, and I was surprised that she hadn't closed them.

"Edward?" she began. "I just want you to know that whatever you're doing feels like it's working. It feels…amazing."

That moment of hesitation as she searched for the right word nearly did me in. The sexual charge that crackled through me was the first time during the session that I had lost focus and blurred the line between the sensual and the sexual. Because in that split second, I realized that as much as I wanted to make her feel healed and whole again, more than that I wanted to make her feel complete euphoria, delirium, ecstasy. "Amazing" didn't begin to cover what I wanted her to feel at my hands.

I replied simply, "I'm glad," then quickly pursed my lips together before anything incriminating could pop out. I avoided her gaze and concentrated on what I was doing. At last she closed her lids and gave me some peace. Her body began to relax more and more as I worked, and I wondered if she was concentrating on something that brought her joy, like I told her to. Whatever she was thinking about, it was working.

I was very careful not to massage her lower back too deeply, because frankly, Emmett needs to do a lot more work there first. I was so absorbed in trying to unwind the knots I found there that I didn't notice her wince.

"Edward," she finally whispered. "I feel kind of a weird…_pulling_ across my tailbone."

"That's my cue to stop, then," I announced. I quit immediately and pulled my hands out from under her hips, accidentally brushing the edge of her panties as I did so. Lace. That was a little surprising. She seemed like a cotton boy-shorts kind of girl. I really, really didn't need to imagine what her panties looked like, though of course the picture appeared in my head instantaneously. Every new detail I learned about her startled and confounded me, and I hated how appealing that was.

"You did very well today. I think we made a lot of progress. Your muscles became more and more responsive, which is a very good thing. Did you go to your 'happy place' like I suggested?" I asked with a short laugh.

She smiled a little, but her eyes were serious as she regarded me. "I did," she said quietly. Something in her gaze made me hope that her 'happy place' had something to do with me. Then I mentally chided myself for such stupid wishful thinking and self-consciously raked my fingers through my hair.

"Do you feel better this time than the last? You're not sick, are you?"

"No, I feel fine," she insisted, though she had told me that last week, too.

"Do you need my help getting up?" I asked again, just to be sure.

"No, I'm good. Honestly," she added, obviously seeing the uncertainty on my face.

"Okay. Just holler if you need me. You can come out to the reception desk whenever you're ready."

I picked up her files and left the massage room, closing the door gently behind me. I let out a ragged sigh of relief, again wondering why it was such an ordeal to treat this girl. On the one hand, the myofascial work itself was engrossing, and her issues were complicated. I usually welcomed a challenge like that. But so many feelings other than the urge to heal were fighting within me that I felt drained when our hour was up.

I was standing at the reception counter, making notes in her file when I heard her approach. She stopped across the counter from me and asked, "What do I owe you for today?"

I blinked at her for a moment, and was tempted to tell her it was on the house. "Don't worry about it. Let's see if your insurance will cover it first, okay?"

"I don't think it will, but thanks," she said, looking a little relieved. Then her brows knitted again and she stared at the countertop for a moment before raising her anxious eyes to mine. Her next words poured out in a rush.

"Edward, about last weekend at Billy's… I just want you to know that I wasn't trying to railroad you or anything. I had no idea that you were a musician, and I would never dream of trying to convince you to record your music. I completely understand where you're coming from, feeling like you'd be selling out or giving up something that's personal and special to you. I totally respect that. I just hope you don't hold it against me." She let out a long breath when she was done, and her shoulders slumped as if she had just dropped a giant weight from them.

I was stunned for a second, mouth agape. I couldn't believe she had been so worried about something I'd barely given a second thought.

"Of course I don't," I answered quickly. "I mean, I admit that at first it seemed a little suspect, but I realized right away that you had no way of knowing that I would be there singing that night. I'm just sorry if I sounded like I don't approve of your job. Nothing could be further from the truth. If you saw my music collection or my iPod, you'd know just how much I appreciate what you do."

She appeared to be relieved, and I felt that way myself. "That's good," she said. " I was afraid that you thought I orchestrated the whole evening or something. It really was just a coincidence, seeing you there. But…," she paused to bite her lip, "I'm glad I did. You were great."

I can't adequately describe the sensation that spread through my chest at those three little words, spoken in her quiet alto, her soft brown eyes gazing up at mine. Somehow her compliment carried more weight now, alone together in this silent office, than it did last week in the noisy bar.

"Thank you," I answered softly, my voice sounding thick. I cleared my throat, adjusted my reading glasses and decided to stick a toe out over the ledge. "I thought maybe I'd see you there again last night."

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open a little as she inhaled sharply. I could see that she was unsure how to respond. I couldn't stand even the tiny bit of panic in her eyes, so I let her off the hook.

"Alice mentioned that she told you Jasper and I would be there," I explained at last. "I think she wanted you to hear him play. She's got a little crush on him and wants to help him out."

"Oh, right," she said with a short laugh. "I, uh… actually, I was there, but I couldn't stay long. I had another commitment."

"Oh," I replied, wondering if that last part was really true. "I didn't see you. You should have come over and said 'hello.'"

"Well, you looked pretty busy. I didn't want to intrude." She suddenly looked terribly unsure of herself.

I shook my head, bewildered. "You wouldn't have been intruding. It was just Emmett, Alice and some friends of mine." I paused until her eyes met mine again. "Isabella, I don't ever want you to feel like you can't talk to me."

I hated the doubt that still lingered on her face, so I took one last, unwise stab at making her believe that I was sincere. "I liked what you said about how music can save people. I believe that completely. Maybe that's something that you and I have in common."

There it was-that quiet desperation in her eyes; the haunted look I had recognized the first time I looked into their depths.

"Well, it definitely saved me. Still does, every day, one way or another," she admitted.

Finally, the opening I'd been hoping for. "I want to ask you about something, but you don't have to answer me if you don't want to."

She looked more curious than alarmed. "Shoot," she said simply.

I took a deep breath and tried to choose my words carefully. "Your medical records show that you got your injuries in a car accident when you were a teenager. I'm just wondering, did something else happen that day? Something that left…an emotional scar?"

The alarm came then, her eyes widening and her body stiffening. My arrow had hit the mark, and I winced at her pain. Then, suddenly, her face went blank, as if she had just shut the door on whatever memory I had evoked. Her defense mechanisms were just as effective as mine. The realization only served to make me hungry for answers, and more determined to get to the truth about her. I had the feeling it was the key to unlocking and unraveling the pain that held her twisted flesh captive.

She appeared as if she were searching for a reply when the sound of the front door opening behind her caught her attention. I looked up to see Katrina, long and lean in her tennis dress, probably coming to see what was holding me up. A glance at the clock told me I was fifteen minutes late meeting her at the coffee shop around the corner, where we had planned to grab a light lunch before our Saturday match.

"Hey, Edward!" she said brightly, flashing a toothy smile. Her eyes took in my frustrated expression, then shifted to Isabella's pained one, and her smile faded. "Sorry if I interrupted something. I just thought I'd see if you were running late. I can wait outside."

I sighed and said, "No, it's fine. Ms. Swan and I were just finishing up here." We all exchanged awkward looks, so I filled the silence with introductions. "Isabella, this is a good friend of mine, Katrina Denali. Katrina, this is my newest client, Isabella Swan."

"Hi," Katrina said warmly, stepping closer and holding her hand out to Isabella's. "Nice to meet you. You can call me Kate."

"Of course," my client responded, giving me a short but pointed glance as she shook Kate's hand. "You can call me Bella."

Katrina caught her meaning and let out a hearty laugh. "I think Edward is allergic to nicknames. Emmett must have called him 'Eddie' one too many times as a kid."

I gave her a withering smile and grabbed my brother's appointment book to see when he had Isabella scheduled, then compared it to mine. I was booked and wouldn't be able to treat her that day. As I looked through my schedule, I realized next Saturday would be the soonest I could see Miss Swan again unless I had a cancellation.

"I won't be able to schedule your appointment until a week from today. Will that work for you?" I asked her.

"Sure, that's fine," she replied in a subdued voice, avoiding my gaze. I must have gone too far, asking her what had happened to her. She looked like she couldn't wait to leave.

I filled out the appointment reminder card and handed it to her. She quickly stuck it in her back pocket, mumbled "Thanks," and zoomed around Katrina like the card had caught her pants on fire. The door was still swinging shut as my "See you next week" trailed off behind her.

Kate let out a low whistle. "What was that all about?" she inquired, leaning over the counter on her elbows.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to get to the root of her problems, that's all," I said as I put the appointment books away.

"Edward, you aren't disobeying our Golden Rule, are you?" she asked in a warning tone. "No personal questions, right?"

"I just think that if she could talk about the car accident that made her end up this way, I could make a lot more progress with her," I insisted.

She scrutinized my face a moment. "Are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?"

"Neither. I know half of her problems stem from emotional pain as well as physical," I said matter-of-factly as I fished my keys out of my pocket.

"You _know_ that, huh? For a fact?" she asked skeptically as I escorted her out the door and locked it behind us.

"I can just tell," I shrugged. "I can feel it in her body. I can see it in her eyes. Don't you ever trust your intuition with your customers?"

"Sure, to a point," she replied as we headed down the street. "But I think you're asking for trouble if you're making those kinds of assumptions about someone you're treating. Especially if you're starting to care a little too much about her…?"

I ignored her curiosity as we turned the corner and reached the entrance of the café. I opened the door for her and followed her in, then pretended to be consumed with studying the menu on the blackboard over the counter even though I knew it by heart.

"Edward, please tell me you aren't going there with that girl," Kate said reproachfully. She turned to the barista and ordered a vegan sandwich and iced tea, allowing me to once again dodge her queries. But, much like Alice, I knew she wouldn't let it go. I ordered a Panini and a plain black coffee to clear my head, and we sat at a nearby table to wait for our food. Kate started in on me immediately.

"I saw the way you were looking at her. I almost didn't recognize you-you're such a cool customer most of the time. I've never seen you so…_un_-cool," she teased. "Maybe even a little hot and bothered. That's a new one," she grinned.

"God, not you too," I muttered under my breath, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Excuse me?"

"You and my sister both. You seem to have some weird delusions about my feelings for Isabella Swan. She has some serious physical issues, and I want to help her. It's as simple as that."

"So Alice saw it, too. That little preoccupied gleam in your eyes. You're invested in her. You don't do that with people very often. Can't say I blame you," she sighed.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything stupid," I told her, and this time, I _was _trying to convince myself as well as her. "I wouldn't do that to Emmett, for one thing. And for another, I worked hard to get my shit together. I'm not about to blow it by getting involved with a client."

Katrina studied me for a moment, idly stirring her straw in her tea glass. "It's too bad that's how you met. It's nice to see you actually interested in a girl, even if you keep telling yourself it's only professional."

I gave her an annoyed look, which only made her grin. "Well, hopefully, she won't be your client forever, right? And if you want, you can always refer her to me. I'd be happy to help her, and help you in the process."

Kate was sincere in her offer, and in her wish to help me. I know that much is true. But some perversely selfish part of me wants to be the one to help Isabella Swan. Is it so wrong to want to be someone's savior instead of destroyer?

I thanked Katrina for the offer but assured her I had things under control. I then less-than-subtly changed the subject and asked her how her job was going. She works for a spa that specializes primarily in relaxation massage methods, but she still does some more intensive therapy work like I do. She said business is pretty good, but still suffering a bit from the slow economy. When times are tough, only the elite few can afford to pamper themselves.

I must admit that I feel a little guilty about having been one of those few my entire life. My parents aren't swimming in cash, but they certainly aren't hurting, either. Mom comes from "old money," by Pacific Northwest standards, anyway. The Platts built their fortune from the logging industry in the mid-1800s, as many immigrants to the west did back in the day. Her ancestors later turned to timber milling, and even branched out into textiles and a few other sundry goods as the area boomed. Most of the family business was eventually sold off, and my grandparents, and now my mom Esme, have managed to make a tidy income off of some wise investments, most recently in technology.

Dad's no slouch, either, though he comes from much more humble middle-class beginnings. He always jokes that if he hadn't become a doctor, Mom's family never would have allowed him to marry their daughter. That's patently untrue. Carlisle Cullen is the type man who always knows the right thing to say or do, in any given situation. He could charm the habit off of a nun, if he had the mind to, which of course he never would. I often tell him he should go into politics, except that he's too honest.

But it's Mom's connections that get me membership at the Seattle Tennis Club. Usually a place filled with yuppie douchebags is the last place you'll ever find me; but the tennis courts and amenities are so awesome that I can never pass up the chance to use them. Katrina loves it. I usually have a hard time dragging her out of the hot tubs after our match.

Today was no exception, but I was kind of enjoying relaxing by the pool myself. The only problem was that I started imagining what it would be like if I brought Isabella here. We could hang out on the beach and maybe go boating. I wondered if she'd like that. I wondered what she'd look like in a bikini. Then I got irritated with myself and made Kate leave before she was ready, once again.

"Damn it, Edward, when are you ever going to learn to relax?" she grumped as she threw on her cover-up and collected her duffel bag. "If I had membership here, I'd never leave. You keep telling me how great the food is, but we never stay long enough to have dinner."

"Sorry, I have some errands I need to run," I told her. "Besides, I have to keep testing you to see if you're only friends with me because I can get you in here. Maybe next week we should use some municipal courts instead, just to keep things interesting."

She laughed and answered, "That's fine by me. You know I don't really give a shit about this kind of stuff. But the tennis club perks do sweeten the deal a little. Especially when you're in one of your moods."

I ignored that last remark, because she's put up with a lot of crap from me over the past couple of years. She's the only one who knows the ugly details of what happened between you and me. I had to tell someone, and I didn't want to burden my family with that. So Kate has put up with a lot, to put it mildly.

I drove her back to our medical complex to get her car, then stopped at the market for some groceries on the way home. I'm a completely crappy cook, but I hate living on fast-food and take-out, so I make the attempt every now and then.

I can only blame armfuls of groceries for the fact that I didn't see the cat run in the front door of my building when I unlocked it. I also managed to miss it following me to the service elevator. Only when I felt its thick tail brush up against my shin as the elevator's noisy gears carried us upward did I realize there was another living thing besides me in the confined space.

I let out another rather unmanly sound until I realized that I was not trapped with some giant rat as I feared. The cat was already too busy trying to poke its nose in my grocery bags to acknowledge my high-pitched curse.

"Yeah, I'll bet you smell something good in there," I grunted at it. "If you think I'm giving you any of that fresh salmon, you've got another thing coming."

The cat meowed plaintively, clearly not happy with my mandate.

"I'm not letting you in my place, either. You're probably infested with fleas."

Sad, round, yellow eyes peered up at me before the nose-rubbing on my leg commenced.

"Geezus H…." I muttered as the elevator opened directly in front of my door. There was basically no place for the animal to go unless I escorted it back down on the elevator or threw it out the window onto the fire escape. I sighed as I unlocked the door, knowing that the cat would race inside before I could possibly stop it. It investigated every corner of the loft with the thoroughness of a health inspector while I put away the groceries. Apparently satisfied that nothing was beneath its standards, it approached me with a loud yowl that I was pretty sure had something to do with the fish.

What I did next might surprise you. Or maybe not. I'm never sure how well you knew me. I grilled the salmon with some lemon, garlic and black pepper like I always do. But I threw a bit of it to the cat before I did. I know it will never leave now. I knew it the minute I did it.

"I think I should call you Isabella," I told it, giving it a grudging scratch or two behind the ears as it begged at the table. "I didn't want you or need you in my life. But here you are. Now what do I do with you?" I mused softly as the cat purred contentedly.

"Before I name you, I'd better check something," I told it, grabbing its tail and taking a quick look underneath. The furry evidence of his manhood was still intact. "I guess 'Isabella' is out, then. I don't think she would have appreciated that anyway."

I tossed a tiny piece of the fish down to him, which he gobbled greedily off the glossy floor. "I should have figured you for a tomcat, anyway, as big as you are," I said idly. "You're lucky I haven't thrown you outside yet. Get ready for it, because you are not spending the night in here. At least not until I'm satisfied you're not crawling with lice or something."

He looked up at me with ravenous eyes, as if the bits of fish I'd already given him were simply a tease. I threw him another morsel and admonished, "This is the last one. After that it's canned tuna fish. And that's only until I can get back to the store and get you some cat food."

He seemed satisfied with that, as he commenced with the leg-rubbing again. He certainly was an affectionate cat. Or maybe just a desperately lonely one.

"I guess I could call you Tom," I told him with a laugh. "Tom Cat. That's fairly unoriginal, though, isn't it?" I thought for a moment, and then realized I'd already named him.

"Lucky," I said, "welcome to your new home. As long as you keep the vermin out, we might be able to work out an arrangement."

He looked up at me through narrowed slits, his expression one of superlative wisdom. Or possibly that of the cat who just swallowed the canary, I'm not sure which.

"I know, I'm a sucker," I sighed, allowing another ear scratch to turn into a long stroke down his back and along his thick, bushy tail. "But who knows? Maybe I'll turn out to be the lucky one this time."

Lucky purred and gave me another slit-eyed, shrewd gaze. We both knew I wasn't talking about him.


	7. Dream, part 1

**A/N: I'm splitting the next chapter in two again, by letter date. The first part is short - more to come later from BPOV.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has dropped by to check out my story. And for the feedback, I am eternally grateful. You all are the shiz. That is all. ;)**

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Saturday, July 24 **

"_Hey, beautiful, how ya feeling these days? R U on the mend? I thought if U were up to it, U'd like to grab some dinner w/me & then check out The Pack tonight. We're playing at Maggie's Farm on the east side. What do U think?"_

_I think you've got a lot of nerve, that's what I think, _I glared back at the text message on my cell phone. Two weeks? Two weeks Jacob Black waited to find out how I'm doing. And then he had the audacity to ask me out, on a Saturday morning, for that same night. Clearly he never read or even heard of _The Rules. _Just because he and I have known each other since we were kids is no excuse for him to treat me like a reliable old pair of sneakers.

Still, I have to appreciate the irony of him text-messaging me as I sat in the waiting room of Cullen and Cullen, PC. If it weren't for my over-zealous efforts to fix up our shabby apartment for Jake, I never would have met Edward Cullen. Or, if I had, it would have been in a place like Billy's, where I no doubt would have approached him about signing with Java Noise and been unceremoniously shot down.

I wondered if Edward was a mind-reader, because no sooner did I start thinking about him than he showed up in the reception area, clipboard and files in hand. The sight of him bowled me over once again, he was so ridiculously handsome. I wondered if I would ever reach the point where his mere presence didn't make every nerve in my body sing in anticipation. Eye contact with him never failed to send a surge of adrenaline through me, and his smile seemed the only remedy to calm it.

He was finishing up with the patient before me and told me it would be a moment. I was glad, because that gave me time to recover from the impact of his gorgeousness, and to send Jake an appropriate return message.

"_Hey, Jake. I'm slowly getting better w/reg visits to a chiro and MT, thx for asking. Sorry, I have plans tonight. Maybe some other time if you give me more notice."_

I hit "send" with a smirk of satisfaction. I actually didn't have any plans, and had considered going to check out his band again for Rose, but I certainly wasn't telling him that. To be honest, I really hadn't given him a thought this past week. I was too busy trying not to obsess over Edward, and then feeling crushed at the sight of him with his blonde bombshell date last night. Obviously Alice Cullen had no plans whatsoever to set me up with her brother if she asked me to show up on his date night. She probably just wanted to help out Edward's friend Jasper, since she thought he'd be more amenable to the idea of a music career. Jasper is talented - he has a quirky voice and mad guitar skills - but Edward possesses a kind of hypnotic charisma that can't be learned or bought. Then again, maybe I'm biased. The more I know about Edward, the more unclear my perception of him becomes. Isn't the opposite supposed to happen?

My appointment with him today didn't help matters. It seemed to go by in a blur of pure sensation. Certain points stand out in my mind, like when he first grasped my hips, ever so gently, and then probed the outline of my hipbones through my jeans. A nervous thrill shot through my groin, followed by a slow, gathering warmth between my legs. All he was doing was measuring my hips in order to tell me just how screwed up they are, but my hormones were oblivious to such cold, hard facts.

Those insistent hormones continued to tip the scales throughout the massage session. I couldn't look at Edward for long, because whenever I did, I couldn't relax. It had been a lot easier when I thought it was Emmett who was working on me. Now that I knew the truth, my mind could not ignore the knowledge that it was Edward's beautiful hands probing my body so thoroughly, and excitement prickled through me in response. I attempted to concentrate solely on the wonderful things he was doing to my strained muscles, but then I'd begin thinking about his fingers straying to more intimate parts of my body…imagining the things he could do there. Realizing how badly I wanted him to touch me that way. Wondering what his mouth would feel like instead…those tender-looking lips exploring me, raising goose bumps on my skin as his breath cooled the wetness his tongue left behind.

Sometime in the middle of my frustrated sexual fantasies, he stopped and told me to imagine something that had always made me happy, so I would relax more. I tried thinking back to when I was a kid and you took me to the beach, Mom. I remembered that time we vacationed in California and you helped me build sand castles all day, then wiped away my tears when the tide came in and washed my little kingdom back into the sea. Life was so blessedly simple then; hurts so easily mended.

I gradually realized that his suggestion had worked. I actually had calmed down a lot, recalling happy memories. I began fantasizing about being at the beach again, but this time, with Edward. That is, the Edward I'd seen glimpses of - the one with an easy smile, the one who joked with his friends and made them laugh. It would be fun to spend a day with him, just playing around in the water.

I wondered if we could do that - just enjoy each other's company without the underlying tension that seemed to taint every interaction with each other. Then again, if the tension was partly sexual - and it certainly was on my end - there was something to be said for that. I wouldn't want our dynamic to be so comfortable that we were in danger of falling into the "friend zone."

That's where I've always placed Jacob Black. He's a couple of years younger than me, and when I moved to Forks my junior year in high school, I barely recognized the kid with whom I'd spent summers playing in the tide pools near the Quileute reservation. We continued to hang out occasionally whenever our dads got together, but I never felt anything beyond a platonic fondness for him.

That's why I was so surprised when I went to check out The Wolf Pack for the first time a few weeks ago. I knew they had been practicing for years together, but I'd never heard them play an actual gig. I was shocked at how tight they sounded, and how good they already were even though they were new to the Seattle bar scene. I was impressed, and it was nice to see some home boys do good in the "big city."

I was even more impressed when Jake came to give me a bear hug after their set, because his massive muscles nearly crushed me in their exuberant embrace. I wondered when he'd gotten so big. Did drumming really build biceps like that? I'm not really into muscles, but I had to admit that Jake was looking pretty fine, all grown up and filled out. It was the first time I'd ever flirted with the idea of something beyond being buddies with him. So when he asked me out, I was surprised but intrigued at the thought of our longtime friendship taking a turn. I was even a little nervous about it. He'd never made me nervous before.

But then I threw my back out of whack again, our date never happened, and Edward Cullen came into my life. Any thought of Jake was completely forgotten the minute I looked into Edward's eyes. My hopeless attraction to him has eclipsed any fleeting interest I may have felt for my old friend.

And now, I was reveling in his touch, giving in to the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands beneath my body while he worked. His long fingers were as warm as the sun's rays on my skin, sinking deep into my flesh and soothing me like no one has ever done before. I never wanted him to stop.

That's precisely when my stupid tailbone started to twinge at me again. _Traitor, _I cursed it, wincing slightly as the strained sensation increased. I finally had to tell Edward it was bothering me, and the disappointment of his hands pulling out from under my backside was as unwelcome as the nerve twitch that had prompted him to stop. He seemed very concerned that I might be sick again, or that I wouldn't be able to get up okay on my own. I began wondering how many truly crippled up people he treats. Or was I really that big of a mess at the end of our session last week?

After he left the room, I cringed at that thought as I eased myself off the table and got dressed. I decided I'd better get it together if I ever hope to have this guy see me in a romantic light. What if he's afraid I'm too fragile to ever be fuckable?

Then I laughed at the audacity of my hopes and reminded myself about the blonde I saw him with last night. I am clearly nowhere near his type. He probably has about as much desire to fondle my flat chest as I do to replace a toilet seat ever again.

When I wandered out to the front desk to pay for my session, he insisted we wait to see if my insurance will cover it, which I know it won't. But it was a relief that he helped me put off the inevitable, since pay day is still a week away. As I looked up at his beautiful visage, still smacking of dishevelment beneath his tidy jacket and glasses, I longed to break the ice with him somehow. More than ever, I want to get to know the untamed Edward hiding behind that carefully controlled surface.

I decided I would try apologizing for how things went down last Saturday night, not knowing if he had felt cornered when I admitted why I was at Billy's. I was relieved to find that he hadn't given it nearly as much thought as I had.

But before I could get too comfortable, he turned the tables on me. I was shocked when he mentioned that he thought he might see me at Billy's again last night, until he explained that Alice had told him he might. He almost sounded disappointed when he thought I hadn't shown, and again when I admitted I was there but didn't speak to him. I can still hear his words ringing in my ears, rattling me to my core: "Isabella, I don't ever want you to feel like you can't talk to me."

When he told me he understood what I'd meant about music being able to heal people, I thought I must be dreaming. Most of my daydreams have centered around Edward Cullen being interested in what I have to say, or relating to me on some level. So for him to offer this up as "something you and I have in common" was sweet music to my ears.

But immediately after that, I found out why people always say to be careful what you wish for. I truly thought I wanted to share everything with him… until he asked me point blank about the one thing I can't talk about.

I still can't believe he hit the nail on the head like that. I stared at him, frozen, wondering if he had somehow looked up the state records for Arizona and read what had happened. But how the hell would he have known to do that? Which left the even more implausible, yet apparently accurate idea that he has some kind of uncanny intuition about me. That he truly sees into my darkest depths and knows what's lurking there. But how could he?

Unless there's a dark spot on his soul, too. Maybe that's what I see when I look in his eyes… what I hear when his singing veers a little too close to an anguished wail. Perhaps we're holding up mirrors to one another, playing a kind of emotional "chicken." Testing each other, waiting to see which of us will reveal our ugly truths first.

I was frantically trying to figure out what to say to him - how much to explain without giving myself away - when I heard the door open behind me and felt a whoosh of hot air hit the backs of my bare arms. Relief flooded me. I turned to see the next patient who had unwittingly saved me, and my relief was soon replaced by the increasingly familiar jealousy sponge. I might as well get used to it if I'm going to waste time pining over a guy like Edward.

In waltzed the blonde from last night, stunningly statuesque and yet still somehow cute as a button in her ponytail and tennis dress. Who the hell actually wears those things? More to the point, is that really the kind of girl Edward goes for? Because I can't see him willingly suiting up in the requisite tennis whites. Then again, it seems I find out something about him that surprises me on a regular basis. But surprises like model girlfriends are the kind I can do without.

I ducked out of Cullen and Cullen as fast as I could, feeling like an idiot for the pipe dreams I'd been creating about Edward. Granted, he had looked almost annoyed when his Barbie-esque friend, Kate Denali, had interrupted us; but it was getting to the point that I didn't trust my judgment on that score anymore. The fact remained that she was the one he was escorting out in public, not me.

So why the personal questions, then? Why would he ask me if I had "an emotional scar?" Could that really have something to do with my treatment? The more I think about our brief conversation, the more confused I become. If I ever figure out men, it'll be some kind of miracle. It probably won't happen until I'm fifty, when it'll be too late to put the knowledge to good use.

I stopped by Panera on the way home and picked up lunch for Angela and myself. As I waited in line at the counter, I checked my phone messages. There was a new one from Jake.

"_Sorry, Bells, I should have called sooner. Been having some trouble w/our booking agent-looking for a new one. Tonite's gig was last min. How 'bout next Sat? We're playing at the Thirsty Whale. Dinner first, my treat, wherever U want. I'll call U later."_

Hmmm. At least Jake was offering me a dinner date, even if it was via text message. It's probably more than I'll ever get from "Mr. Cullen." Thinking about him playing tennis with the Barbie doll - or Barbie Denali, as it were - made me vaguely nauseous. I pushed the thought aside and decided I might as well accept Jake's invitation. But I figured I'd let him sweat it out a little and wait until he called me before I said "yes."

Ange and I spent the afternoon cleaning the duplex and then opted for an evening in with a couple of movies. Sometimes my ears just need a rest from judging music all the time. I'm ignoring the nagging voice that tells me I really just want to hear Edward again, and anything else would be a let-down. I keep wondering if he's playing anywhere tonight, and if the Barbie Denali is in attendance.

Jealousy is a very ugly emotion, Mom. Not that this is news. But I'm not sure I've ever felt it so keenly before, strangling me in its grip. I'm envious of anyone who gets to see the side of Edward that I'm dying to know. So my resentment of the seemingly-nice girl I met this afternoon only makes me feel both irritated and hopeless - not a very attractive combo.

I've decided I'm calling Jake tomorrow. That's an appropriate amount of time to make him wait, right? I might as well give the guy a chance. Maybe he'll surprise me.

Later, Mom. Love you.

_~Bells_


	8. Dream, part 2

**As always, I own nothing; I'm just borrowing Stephenie Meyer's creations for a little fun.**

**Thank you to everyone who has supported me and given me great ideas-you know who you are! And to everyone who has read or left feedback, I am as always grateful.**

**Now on with the rest of Bella's thoughts on the enigmatic Edward Cullen.**

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Thursday, July 29**

Edward Cullen nearly got me in hot water yesterday morning.

He is blissfully unaware of this fact, of course. For a start, he couldn't possibly know that he's been the star of my increasingly romantic dreams for the past couple of weeks. My subconscious has been having a heyday while I sleep. It clearly doesn't realize how pathetically far-fetched its scenarios are.

Edward and I were playing tennis this time. I don't play tennis. I don't play any sport that requires me to utilize hand-eye coordination in order to avoid injuring myself or others with flying missiles. But Edward was wearing another delectably body-skimming, battered tee hanging over the waistband of his baggy shorts, and the muscles of his forearms rippled masterfully with every stroke that he foolishly lobbed my way. Astonishingly, the dream version of me was doing a commendable job returning his serves. The sheer absurdity of such a notion is no doubt what alerted my dormant consciousness to the fact that it had better end this nonsense immediately.

As my slowly-waking mind continued the ludicrous dream scenario - which ended with a heated argument-turned-violent make-out session over the tennis net - actual sleep eluded me completely. Frustration finally took over and forced me out from under the covers. I decided maybe I could make myself useful by going to Java Noise early and taking care of a few things before Rose got to work.

On the way to the administrative area, I found myself lured toward one of the smaller recording studios - dark, empty and inviting in the early morning hours. What would _he_ sound like on this kind of sound system? The desire to find out was overwhelming. I didn't know how to use all the equalizers, but I had a basic understanding of how to play back recordings on the complicated equipment.

I had already converted my recordings of Edward and loaded them onto my iPod, but I still had the originals on my digital recorder as well. It would connect easily with a USB port, if I could only find the proper place to plug it in. After a little finagling with some chords and wires, I finally hit pay dirt.

Edward Cullen's impassioned singing and guitar accompaniment soon swelled through the room, reverberating off the acoustically perfect walls and washing over me in waves of raw emotion. Perfectly imperfect, beautiful and ballsy, ugly and urgent and pleading…so many things conveyed in the space of mere minutes. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the gruff warmth of his voice. Its sinewy tendrils snaked under my skin, wrapping around my vitals more tightly than that twisted "fascia" of mine that Edward was so patiently trying to unravel. He had no way of knowing the hold he was taking in its place, replacing every bond he loosened with a new and different one that tied me to him.

As the song that had gripped me came to an end, I reluctantly opened my eyes just in time to see the always-immaculate Rosalie Hale approach the window and beckon to me with a crook of her elegant finger. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as she disappeared down the hall toward her office. I would have died a thousand deaths if she had burst through the door and demanded to know more about who was responsible for the amazing music filling the room.

I retrieved my Edward demo and rushed down the hall into her office, quickly explaining that I was giving a few artists a second listen. My fingers drifted to my back right pocket and patted the digital player that lay snuggled between the tight layers of denim.

Rose waved a hand dismissively, apparently unconcerned with what I'd been doing. She had already moved on to the latest stack of press kits to invade her desk, dividing them into some sort of personal filing system that only God or Einstein could figure out.

"Good news, Bella," she began, pulling out the contents of one of the manila envelopes and giving it the once-over. I recognized the faces of the native Americans on the glossy black and white photo. "I played a few songs from this hometown band of yours for the suits," she explained without preamble. "They were interested in hearing more. When's their next gig? I want to go with you to hear them myself."

"The Wolf Pack?" I asked. "God, they'll be so excited if Java is interested in them! They're playing this weekend, actually. I'm having dinner with Jake and then catching their set at the Thirsty Whale. You want to meet me there?"

"On your date? Uh, no thanks," Rose laughed. "I don't want to horn in on that action, as long as you keep it separate from business."

"Believe me, you wouldn't be horning in," I scoffed. "Jake and I go way back. It's not even a real date, I don't think. Besides, I'll be sitting by myself while they're playing. I could use the company, and an impartial set of ears."

"Well, the energy of the live stuff you caught a couple weeks ago was better than their demo. I like some of their original material. I want to see for myself if they can deliver the goods," she mused as she perused their press kit. "I think they'd do well regionally, if not nationally. Not sure I'm sold on the name, though. Sounds too much like 'Wolf People.' Maybe they could just shorten it to 'The Pack,'" she suggested, resting one perfectly manicured fingernail along her jaw as she studied their photo again.

"Maybe," I reluctantly agreed. "'The Pack' sounds a little like cigarettes, though," I added with a wrinkle of my nose.

Rosalie let out a raucous laugh and hooked one shiny blonde curl behind her ear. If she weren't such a cool boss, I might have to hate her just a little bit for looking so much like Edward Cullen's type.

"Well, we can work on that. I think I know where the Thirsty Whale is - give me the address and I'll meet you there. Maybe at dinner you can do a little PR for us and see if they're interested. Find out if any other labels have been sniffing around. They've got a good, current sound and I think that Sam guy has real lead man potential."

"Cool," I said, growing excited about the prospect of working with my Quileute friends. "I really need you to hear them, because I think they sound promising live, but I'm afraid I'm biased." I instinctively touched my fingers to my right ass cheek once again, where Edward Cullen rested in aggravating anonymity on my recorder. I wondered what Rose would think of him if she saw him perform. No, that's not true; I didn't wonder at all. I knew what she'd think. She'd want to sign him immediately. I couldn't allow myself to consider what else she might want to do to him.

"So, heard anything else lately that tripped your trigger?" she asked. The comment was offhand, but I felt heat begin to filter through my cheeks. Every day that I kept Edward hidden in my back pocket - literally, at the moment - I felt a little more dishonest. I considered Rose both a mentor and a friend, and this job was not only my bread and butter, but my one true love for the past year. Yet if push came to shove, I already knew without a doubt that I would never betray Edward's trust.

"Oh, maybe a couple of possibilities," I hedged. "I want to see them again before I hand them over to you."

"Okay," she shrugged. She gathered a couple stacks of the thick manila envelopes and shoved them across the desk toward me. "You can get cracking on these, then," she grinned.

I groaned in mock protest as I scooped up the latest batch of submissions and carried them to my tiny office adjacent to hers. It was only after I'd unloaded them onto my desk that I realized I hadn't once worried about hurting my back by hefting the huge stack. It was a small victory, but it was progress all the same. I smiled a little to myself and decided I would tell Emmett about it at my appointment that afternoon.

Rose let me leave a little early to get to Cullen and Cullen on time. I felt a little on edge as I sat in the waiting area, wondering if I would get a glimpse of Edward, even though I knew he had other appointments. I was a bit disappointed when Emmett came out and ushered me into the exam room shortly after I arrived.

After a brief examination, he echoed what Edward had told me on Saturday: I had quite a few bones out of alignment again. He worked on me for a good half hour, pressing a rib back into place, pushing my vertebrae and hips into submission, and torturing me with that pressure-point stuff that sends my nerves screaming during the blessedly brief moments that he skewers them with his thumbs.

"You should have those things registered as lethal weapons," I moaned after he was done.

He let out a hearty laugh and commented, "You are not the first patient to suggest that, actually. But the important thing is, how do you feel now?"

I walked around a bit and realized that I felt pretty good. My body felt loose instead of tense, and nothing ached or bothered me. I told him as much, and his answering smile and twinkling blue eyes were infectious.

"Small price to pay then, eh?" he said. "Don't worry, Bella, eventually your body will get used to the adjustments and things will stay where they should be." He looked over my chart and asked, "Are you doing the stretching exercises Edward recommended?"

I bit my lip sheepishly. "A little. Not as often as I should, probably." I was pretty sure that once or twice a week, when I thought about it, was not the answer he was looking for.

"You know, you might try a yoga or Pilates class to help gain some strength and flexibility. Alice goes three times a week. If you're interested, I'm sure she'd be happy to take you along some time."

"Well, yeah, sure," I agreed less than enthusiastically. I actually wouldn't mind hanging out with Alice, but obviously physical activity and I have never been on good terms. You can attest to that, Mom. I shudder to think how many scrapes you bandaged when I was a kid.

"Do you have my sister's phone number? If not, I can give it to you. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you," Emmett encouraged.

"I do have it, actually. I think she'd like me to listen to Jasper some time," I explained. Somehow it seemed wise to leave Edward out of the equation.

"I'm sure she would. Jasper probably wouldn't mind it, either. Edward's another story, of course." Emmett shook his head ruefully, then continued, "As for the yoga, I think he would agree it's a good idea. He'll be on you like white on rice if he finds out you haven't been following his orders, trust me," he chuckled.

I had the fleeting thought that I would love nothing more than for Edward to be "on me," in any capacity. But I realized that Emmett was referring to Edward's exacting standards. Normally I bristle at anyone telling me what to do, for any reason. So why is the thought of Edward bossing me around sort of…hot?

"I'll give your sister a call," I promised, following Emmett out to the reception counter.

Jessica was her usual bubbly self as she took my payment and scheduled me for another visit at the end of next week. It was near closing time and yet she still seemed to have enough energy to go for another eight hours. I envy people like that. As much as I love hearing live music, there are some nights when I just don't have the will to go hang out in clubs and bars. I guess I get that homebody gene from Dad, huh? You always said I'm just like him. The older I get, the more I see it. It was surprisingly easy living with him when I moved to Forks, even though I thought that was the last thing I wanted to do. He's been my rock. I don't know what I would have done these past few years without him in my corner.

I dragged my feet at the counter, hoping that Edward would finish with his patient and make an appearance before I left. I kept Jessica talking as long as I could, which was actually pretty long, since she's a jabber-box; but I finally had to admit defeat and head out to my car.

Once inside, I fished through my purse until I found the scrap of paper with Alice's number scribbled on it. I knew I'd better call her now before I lost my nerve. My fingers shook a little as I punched the numbers into my cell phone. I knew it was the possibility of getting closer to Edward through her that made the blood course so rapidly through my veins. It certainly wasn't the thought of starting exercise classes that had me trembling in anticipation.

"Hello?" Alice's upbeat warble met my ears.

"Hi, Alice? This is Bella," I said awkwardly. "Bella Swan, from Billy's last weekend?" I added, suddenly wondering if she would even remember who I was.

"Of course, Bella!" Alice exclaimed as if I were her long-lost best friend. "I'm so glad you called. What's up? Do you need a partner in crime for some talent-trolling?"

"Um, well, maybe. I'm staying in tonight, but I'll probably go to an open mic night tomorrow night at one of my regular spots downtown. Unless you know of someplace new I can check out," I added clumsily, hoping that it didn't sound like I was fishing for the next date Edward would be playing somewhere.

"Oh, I'm game for anywhere you want to meet up. It's weird - when I'm away at school so much, it almost feels like I'm a stranger to this town when I come home, you know? Like I don't even know where it's cool to hang out anymore."

"Where do you go to school?" I asked.

"Stanford," she replied nonchalantly, as if anyone can gain admittance, or afford tuition, to such a place. "I went there because I originally planned on getting into biochem and medical research. But when I started doing some hospital internships, I fell in love with pediatric medicine. I felt so gratified when I came home at the end of the day, even though I saw heartbreaking things in the peds unit. I almost transferred back to U-Dub because it has such an awesome med school for primary care. But I love San Francisco, and I kind of like being away from the fam, as much as I love 'em," she concluded.

"I can understand that," I said, though that wasn't quite true. Dad was always easy to live with, and I miss you like crazy. I most certainly can't understand any desire to be far away from the Cullen brothers. But maybe if I were related to them, I'd feel differently.

"So, the reason I'm calling, actually, is to ask you about where you take yoga classes," I told her, changing the subject. "I had an appointment with Emmett today, and he seems to think I should try to do some toning and stretching."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Alice answered. "Are you free Saturday? There's a place I go to that has a really good program for beginners and intermediates, and the instructors are great."

"Well, I have an appointment with Edward at 10 a.m., but I'm free before or after."

"Ooh, lucky you! I would kill for one of Edward's massages. Of course he never gives 'em to me because I refuse to pay him," she laughed. "How about we go afterward? You'll be good and loosened up for the class. I can come meet you at the office and we'll go from there."

"Sure," I agreed with as much enthusiasm as I could muster for the prospect of taking yoga. Before I could add anything else, Alice asked me again about tagging along with me to an open mic night tonight. We made arrangements to meet in Belltown, and she seemed excited to come with me. I felt a little thrill of anticipation, too, but for different reasons, I was sure.

Just as we were about to hang up the phone, Alice interjected one last time.

"Hey, you want to grab some dinner beforehand? There's this Turkish place near your office that I've been dying to try out," she suggested.

"Sure, sounds good. I've eaten lunch there and the food is great," I agreed, trying not to sound too eager. I actually like Alice, so I couldn't help but feel guilty for wanting to find out more about Edward through her.

As it turned out, I worried needlessly. I found out tonight that Alice has a few schemes of her own. Schemes with which I'm fully on board. Grateful, even.

We met in the entryway of the Istanbul Grill at 6 p.m. and were seated immediately, as the place now held only a fraction of its large lunchtime clientele. The Grill is a favorite among a lot of Java Noise staff, with its mix of American and traditional middle-eastern fare and an atmosphere more cozy than exotic. Alice ordered veggie kebabs while I opted for their delicious baba ganoush.

After a few benign pleasantries, Alice folded her hands under her chin and fixed me with a probing stare.

"I don't believe in beating around the bush," she announced. "So, what do you think of my brother?"

I covered my surprise with a large gulp of my iced tea. "Edward? Or Emmett?" I stalled.

Alice only laughed. "I hate to tell you, but you're fooling no one. It's very obvious that there's something going on between you and Edward. I'm just wondering if I should get my hopes up."

It was my turn to laugh then. "Well, I'm flattered that you think I'm a good choice for him, but I think he would beg to differ. I don't seem to be his type."

Alice scrunched her nose in bafflement. "What makes you say that? You are exactly his type. Well, as much as he has a type. He's been acting kind of weird lately-weirder than usual, anyway. But I definitely like the kind of weird he is when he's around you."

I shook my head, now baffled myself. "Well, considering I keep seeing him with this-" my lip curled in a mixture of distaste and defeat- "blonde bombshell of a woman, I think you'd better cool your jets over the idea of him ever being interested in me."

"Blonde bombshell…?" Alice looked perplexed.

"Yeah, Kate something. I forget her last name," I lied in an effort to sound nonchalant about the Barbie Denali.

"Oh! Kate Denali?" Alice exclaimed. Her explosive peals of laughter rippled through the restaurant, drawing a few curious glances. "Trust me, you don't need to worry about her! Satan will be putting on a parka the day anything happens between Kate and Edward."

Her giggles subsided as her eyes drifted toward the door behind me, and she began waving wildly. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I invited Edward to join us - I hope that's okay," she grinned, looking rather devilish herself.

A wave of excited panic swept over me as I shifted my glance to the left and saw his lithe form come into view. I lifted my gaze slowly up his faded jeans and over his dull red-and-blue-plaid shirt, its sleeves rolled up so that I could admire the forearms I'd been dreaming about that morning. I finally mustered the bravery to look at his face, which registered its usual expression upon seeing me - mild shock. Obviously Alice had failed to tell him that I would be here, and vice versa. Sneaky, sneaky girl. I'm beginning to like her more and more.

"I'm going with Bella to check out some music tonight," she explained to her brother as he sidled into the booth next to her. "I thought it would be nice if she could have dinner with us beforehand."

Edward gave me that slightly wary smile, the one that simultaneously frustrated and enthralled me. I'd give anything for him to simply look happy to see me.

"Nice to see you," he said. He uttered no name in greeting, of course. I suppose that's better than "Miss Swan."

"Nice to see you, too."

An awkward pause fell upon the table as Edward and I looked away from each other, while Alice's eager eyes bounced back and forth like a tennis ball between us, probably looking for signs of attraction to justify her duplicity.

Edward raked evenly-spaced rows through his hair with one hand while he reached for a menu with the other. "So have you two ordered already?"

We nodded in agreement while he perused the menu intently.

"Bella's going to come with me to yoga class after her appointment with you Saturday," Alice informed her brother. "Doctor's orders. You should be pleased."

Edward looked up at her with a slight grin, and then his green gaze settled over me. "That's great. I think that will be good for you."

"I hope so. Exercise and I have not traditionally been the best of friends."

His grin grew, disarming what little shield I might have left. "Well, here's to new friendships, then."

I could not defeat my own answering smile, nor did I want to. Alice began bouncing up and down in her seat, her leg evidently pumping furiously under the table.

The waitress arrived with our drinks, and Edward ordered the falafel platter with kisir and baba ganoush on the side. I assured him that was an excellent choice, and his resultant smile sent tingles right down to my toes. Alice excused herself to go to the ladies' room, and the tingles increased to a swarm underneath my skin as she scooted past Edward and disappeared to the back of the restaurant.

"Alice didn't tell me you would be here," I said quickly, feeling the need to explain my presence.

Edward's brows furrowed. "Would that have kept you from coming if you'd known?"

My eyes popped open wide in surprise. "No, of course not. I just didn't want you to think I'm stalking you, and that I put her up to this."

He let out a small laugh, more like a gust of breath. "I didn't. I was worried you might think the same. She didn't let me know you'd be here, either."

I considered telling him that he could stalk me all he liked; that in fact, I would probably welcome any aberrant behavior of his if it meant we could spend more time together.

Instead I settled for, "Looks like Alice has some… interesting ideas about us."

He made no reply, but his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth raised enticingly in unison. He stopped the impending smile by wrapping his lips over the edge his water glass and taking a sip. I watched his face morph into the impartial mask of the therapist as he spoke.

"I want to apologize for asking you such a personal question at the office last Saturday. It's none of my business what happened to you in the past. It's only my business to help make you better now. I hope you'll forgive me."

I tried not to let my face fall as the rest of me visibly slumped in my seat. I wanted no apology from him. I want his interest, even if it means I'll eventually have to come clean about everything. If I ever need a confessor, I already know I want it to be him.

"There's nothing to forgive. You were just concerned. It was actually nice of you to ask."

The "V" that formed between his brows cracked the mask. "It's just that sometimes the body doesn't know the difference between physical pain and emotional pain. All it knows is that you're hurting, and it does everything it can to protect you," he explained. "Sometimes it helps me to know what I'm dealing with. What _you're_ dealing with." He pursed his lips after this statement, evidently worried that again he had assumed too much. He hadn't at all.

"I get that," I replied softly. "You're not too far off the mark. It's just hard for me to talk about, that's all."

To my relief, the mask dissolved entirely. "I get that, too, believe me. But if you ever want to talk… you can trust me."

An emotion filled my chest that was the exact opposite of the jealousy sponge. I could only nod in reply, because I didn't trust my throat to let the words out.

Alice returned then, nudging Edward over and sitting in his place.

"So how was the trip to the vet? Did you get Lucky all fixed up?" she asked him enthusiastically, lightening the mood. Before he could answer, she turned to me and added, "Edward adopted a new cat! He's gorgeous. At least, he will be after he's all cleaned up."

Edward laughed and said, "Lucky is fine. He's got his shots, been de-wormed, de-loused and de-flea'd. He's extremely pissed off with me at the moment. If he only knew how lucky he is that I didn't have him castrated, he'd be a lot more grateful."

"Ah! I can't wait to see him!" Alice exclaimed. "I'll bet he's beautiful now. He's a stray orange tabby that was hanging around Edward's building and just sort of wormed his way into the apartment," she informed me before turning back to her brother. "I admire his persistence. He's just what you needed."

"Huh. We'll see," he muttered with a sour grin. "Between the vet and the pet store, this stupid feline has fleeced me of several hundred dollars already. He'd better be a good mouser and a good foot-warmer come winter. I hate cats. You know that, Alice."

I studied Edward's face and saw that his eyes did not match his gruff words. He was already in love with his new pet, no matter how much he protested on the surface. I was dying to meet Lucky and discover how he had managed to pull off such a feat.

Alice wasn't buying it, either. "People change, Edward. Happens to the best of us. If we're lucky, it's for the better."

The siblings exchanged a secret sort of smile, and I was a little envious. There are many times that I wished I had a brother or sister to confide in, or even a cousin. My family is too small. I try to appreciate what I have instead of mourn what I've lost, but it's difficult sometimes.

The rest of dinner was spent in small talk, with Edward telling us funny stories about the newfound woes of pet ownership. I was in heaven being in the presence of the Edward I'd seen at Billy's last weekend - the one who was relaxed enough to laugh about everyday things like the exorbitant cost of cat food and the necessary indignity of flea collars. It seemed that Alice's presence had a calming influence on him, which was a bit surprising considering she also seemed to know how to push his buttons better than anyone else.

I felt like I should add something to the conversation, but the only anecdote I could think of was to fill them in on my latest project, Jake and The Wolf Pack. I won't lie - I did it mostly to see if I could get a rise out of Edward. I wasn't disappointed.

"So he finally called you, huh?" he remarked after I told him whom I was texting last Saturday morning. "He waited long enough."

"That's exactly what I thought," I agreed, the warm tingles returning to my body at Edward's accusation. "I let him sweat it out before I returned his call."

"That's good," Alice said, her eyes tennis-balling us both again. "I hope you told him where to go."

"Well, not exactly. He and I are old friends, since we were kids. The band has been having trouble with their booking agent. They probably don't even have any formal management at this point, which they desperately need. Anyway, I agreed to have dinner with him and see The Wolf Pack tomorrow night. My boss is coming by later to check them out, so that's promising."

"That is!" Alice exclaimed. "You think they could have a real shot?"

"Yeah, I do, actually," I said, studying Edward's frown as he reached for his soda. "They sound pretty great. They've been working hard the past few years, so I'd love to see them get signed with us."

"I think I met your friend Jacob Black and the rest of them, actually," Edward commented. "Alice, you remember the native Americans Emmett introduced us to a couple of weeks ago at Billy's?"

"Oh, sure! Well, sort of. I was a little busy at the time," she smiled.

"With Jasper, I know," Edward razzed her. "Anyway, at the time I wondered if he was the same guy you were dating. I guess he is." His eyes pierced mine questioningly.

"I wouldn't say we're dating. Not at all," I denied. "It's really more of a business date, anyway, since Rosalie will be there."

"Is that your boss?" Alice piped up.

I nodded, still staring at Edward. He hadn't so much as blinked. Our eyes were transfixed, just as they had been the first night I saw him perform.

"Well, if it's not a date, then maybe we'll stop by and take a listen. I told Jacob I'd check out his band sometime," Edward announced in a clipped tone. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was jealous. I would love nothing more than to see him seething with jealousy, the way I always seem to be whenever I see him with Kate, or any other woman, for that matter.

The booth shook with Alice's frantic bouncing. "Oh, that would be awesome. I mean, if you don't mind, Bella. We don't want to intrude or anything." She clearly was ecstatic at the thought of intruding, and I couldn't say I was opposed to it, either.

"No, I'd love it. They'll be at the Thirsty Whale downtown. Do you know where it is?"

Edward nodded and told Alice it wasn't far from his place, so she could stay with him if she wanted. Then they discussed the possibility of Emmett and Jasper coming along with them. Suddenly, my upcoming date with Jake seemed to be getting very crowded. I couldn't feel too bad about it, since I'm fairly certain that if the evening ends with his band getting a foot in the door at Java Noise, everything else will take a back seat anyway.

After we finished eating, Alice suggested Edward come with us, but he begged off. He said he'd better check on the cat and see how it was doing after getting worked over so thoroughly at the vet. I imagined that his eyes were more intense than usual as he told me he'd see me Saturday morning, but I'm sure I was seeing what I wanted to. I watched his broad shoulders and cute ass appreciatively as he sauntered down the sidewalk toward his car, which was parked opposite of mine. When he disappeared around the corner, my eyes finally shifted to Alice and her Cheshire grin.

"You are so gone on my brother," she stated, her doe eyes shining.

I let out a sigh of surrender. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, yeah. I recognize the signs. You're not the first, I must admit. But I think you might be the last, and I could not be happier about that," she said in a satisfied tone.

"Wow, that's a pretty bold statement," I told her, trying to suppress a dangerous swell of hope at her words. What would make her think that Edward was interested in me enough to forego other women?

"Maybe. But you don't know Edward like I do. It's been a long time since I've seen him like this. Maybe never, in fact. I don't think I've ever seen him get jealous like he did when you brought up that Jake guy. That was genius on your part, by the way! That worked on my brother like a charm. Trust me, Edward likes you. Very, very much," she said confidently as we approached my beater truck. Alice had taken a cab from the ferry terminal to the restaurant, so I was driving the rest of the evening.

I still get nervous driving sometimes, even though the truck has been completely refurbished with every safety feature money can buy. This was one whim Charlie gave into: my desire for the sturdiest, safest vehicle possible. I like the combination of my truck's ancient, impervious steel exterior with modern airbags, seatbelts and anti-lock brakes.

"If Edward likes me, he has a funny way of showing it," I said as I unlocked the doors. "Sometimes he looks at me like I have the plague and he's afraid he'll catch it."

"Ha! I think it's the love bug he's afraid of catching," she laughed. Then her face grew more serious.

"As long as you're his patient, it'll be an uphill battle," Alice admitted as she climbed in and put on her seatbelt. "He's got a no-dating policy with his clients. But, he won't be treating you forever," she grinned conspiratorially. "Besides, I think he might cave if you keep at."

"Really?" I said uncertainly as I revved the groaning engine. "You think I should be more obvious with him? I don't know if I can do that. I'm not the most outgoing person, if you hadn't noticed."

"Yes, but you're honest and straight-forward. You shoot from the hip, and Edward loves that. Just be yourself and everything will take care of itself," she said confidently as I checked the mirrors, looked over my shoulder and pulled out into traffic.

"Right. Simple." I shook my head a little and said no more as I concentrated on getting us to Belltown in one piece.

"It is simple. Don't make it complicated. I'll remind Edward to do the same," she smiled, settling back against the worn red leather headrest.

We had fun at the Gooseneck Pub, listening to some Celtic and folk-inspired music that was pretty good. I recorded the performers, though I wasn't certain any of them were a good fit for Java. Alice remained quiet between acts, then bent my ear in between. She talked a lot about Jasper, and I could see that she was as certain of her future with him as she was about mine with Edward. I wish I had a fraction of her faith in fate's good graces. In my experience, fate can be a cruel master.

We didn't stay out too late since I had to work in the morning. When I dropped Alice off at the terminal, she said the oddest thing to me. I'm still trying to figure out what she was talking about.

She thanked me for taking her along to the bar, and said she was looking forward to "getting me yoga-fied" on Saturday. But as she turned to go, she whirled back suddenly, her expression more serious than I've ever seen it.

"About Edward. You should know that he's been through some stuff. Some really… painful … events." It was strange hearing the normally mellifluent Alice struggle to find words. "If it seems like he's pushing you away, he probably is, and I know why. It's not my place to say any more. Just, please don't let him discourage you. Promise me you'll be patient with him, okay? Don't give up on him. He's worth it."

I looked at her pleading hazel eyes and nodded mutely. She suddenly grabbed me in an awkward hug and whispered, "Thanks, Bella." Then she boarded the boat, turning and giving me a subdued wave before she vanished.

I mulled over her words the entire way home, wondering what on earth had happened to Edward Cullen. I had been entirely right about my suspicions the first time I heard him sing. Maybe when he brought up emotional scars, it was because he has a sizeable one of his own.

I slept fitfully, waking in the middle of the night from a disturbing dream. I was out sailing with Edward, skimming along the pristine waters of Puget Sound on a rare sunny day. As always, the fair weather didn't last long, and rain clouds soon overtook us, spewing cold needles of liquid down upon the craft. Edward turned the boat around to head back to the shore, and as the vessel keened to one side, I lost my balance and fell overboard. The frigid water engulfed me instantly, its icy fingernails clawing the air from my lungs as I shrieked Edward's name. He frantically grabbed the life preserver and tossed it to me, hollering for me to grab it and he would pull me back to the safety. I clutched for the ring but kept losing my grip, my numb, wet fingers finding no purchase on the slippery surface.

"Bella!" His ragged voice thundered across the water more loudly than the storm. "Hang on-I won't lose you, too."

As he leapt from the boat and swam toward me, a peculiar calm settled over me, even as the choppy water threatened to pull me deeper. I saw Edward coming, and despite the calamity surrounding us, I knew with perfect clarity that everything would be okay. His hands met mine in the water, grasping them firmly. He pulled me in his arms, and I woke up.

I lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, pondering the meaning of the dream with little success. Only one thing about it stood out vividly in my mind as the rest of the illusory drama faded and I slipped into unconsciousness once more.

It was the first time I ever heard Edward Cullen call me "Bella."


	9. Interference

**Big thanks to Stephenie Meyer for creating the Twilight characters. I had more fun than the law allows playing with them in this chapter!**

**So much love to all of you who have read/reviewed/alerted/favorited... you all keep me going. You're awesome.**

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, July 31**

I've always thought of myself as a rational person.

Sure, I've had my wild, impetuous moments. A lot of them were with you. But for the most part, I look before I leap. Think before I act.

So why do I feel like I'm willfully walking a tight-rope without a safety net these days? Moreover, why am I beginning to relish the feeling?

I made the mistake of arriving at the Thirsty Whale a minute too soon, or too late, depending on how you look at it. Soon enough to be accosted by the sight of Isabella Swan clutched beneath the brawn of Jacob Black's bare arm, looking like she was enjoying herself immensely. Too late to do anything about it.

My reaction was so instantaneous and so volatile that it shocked the hell out of me. I wanted to charge across the room and peel his swarthy paw from her skin with a crowbar.

Irrational.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Looking back, it was merely the culmination of a week of escalating preoccupation with this girl, topped off by my intrepid sister springing a surprise dinner on the two of us Thursday night. I was amazed at how entranced I was just sitting across the table from Isabella. Watching her smile, chew, swallow, laugh, fidget, blush, look away, look back, look inside. I don't know how she got in so quickly, but here she is… seeping around my edges, settling in my nooks and crannies.

Every day I wake up inside her. She is a part of my morning ritual now, my fantasy version of her taming my morning wood by various sensual and titillating methods. I wonder if reality is half as good as I make her in illusion. I know it doesn't matter anyway. For one thing, I can never allow myself to find out; and for another, I am beyond grading her on some useless scale against past conquests. She's exempt; separate.

She has already won.

My shapeless, impure white lab coat was my best friend this morning, able to mask my struggles to hide the beast of longing within as I worked on Isabella Swan. My brow was beginning to bead with the sweat of trying so hard to concentrate on the medical aspect of the task at hand. And, medically speaking, things are looking up. She is getting better. Her tissues are more pliant, more willing to be coaxed back to their natural state. Her body is getting used to being manipulated now. I like telling it what to do. I was high on the feeling of her surrender as the fascia relaxed and stretched in response to the pressure of my hands.

But it was nowhere near enough. I couldn't stop myself from imagining the other ways she would yield to me and let me in, if only I would move my hands a little lower, a little further, a little deeper. If I knelt down and breathed her floral spice deep into my lungs, sucked the nectar from her lips, licked the salt from her alabaster skin. If I drew quicker and quicker breaths from her lungs, moans from her throat, cries from her mouth. Clutches from her limbs. Quivers and shudders from her core. I want her to trust me with her body in every way possible.

Even her body is not enough. I want everything that animates it from within - the traits that makes it hers_. _The beating soul that makes her liquid eyes melt into mine, pump through my veins and engorge my cock in a throbbing, primal drumbeat.

_Bella. Bella. Bella._

I tried desperately to stop the insistent yearning as I worked. The more I tried to ignore my arousal, the harder my dick got. I'm pretty sure I haven't had such lack of control over it since junior high school. It knew what it wanted, and my fingers were mere inches away from the prize.

That's what I get for being celibate the past few months. I tried to remember the last time I had sex, and the effort it took to recall the details told me it had been too long.

My dilemma wasn't about the sex itself, obviously. I can get that anytime I want, which sounds grotesquely arrogant, but is patently true. I spent nearly two years proving it. Perhaps the ease of the conquests was what eventually made them lose their charm for me. Or maybe it was the feeling of yawning emptiness that always followed.

It wasn't even emptiness, now that I think about it. Nothingness would be a better word. I felt nothing for any of the girls I bedded; neither affection nor animosity. Perhaps only a vague sense of guilt, if any of them seemed to be eager for more than one wasted evening. But even that I could rationalize away with the knowledge that these were consenting adult women who knew what they were doing, and I'd certainly made no promises that extended beyond the breaking dawn. My drive to get laid seemed more a biological imperative to which I acquiesced than a conscious desire.

So my desire for Isabella Swan felt all the more intense because of the long dearth of feeling that preceded it. The want, the need were swift and acute as they obliterated the numbness that had been my ally before. Their invasion was total and all-encompassing, for I didn't want just her sex. I wanted her laughter and her gravity, her twists and her straight arrows, her intensity and her unbearable lightness, her secrets and her truths, her pain and her ecstasy. I wanted _her_, every bit of her, this girl lying before me.

The sweat continued to dampen my hairline as my erection strained beneath the layers of cotton that held it at bay. I couldn't keep touching her. I would go crazy if I kept touching her. I would rip the sheet from her body, clutch her breasts between my greedy fingers, climb atop her and plunge myself deep between her thighs if I didn't stop touching her. And she would wrap those insanely long, slender legs around me, grab my ass in her hot little hands and pull me so deep inside that I'd start sobbing like a baby at the sensation of finally losing myself in her. Because surely my touching her was driving her crazy too.

Wasn't it?

I tried to steady the ragged rhythm of my breathing as I slid my hands away from her lower back and hip, the edge of her panties taunting my fingers with a lacey caress.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, the concrete sound of her voice a welcome distraction from my fevered imagination.

"Everything's fine," I answered, amazed at the smoothness of my reply when a torment of desire churned within. "I'm actually going to move down to your legs for awhile."

I wanted to clock myself across the jaw as soon as the words tumbled from my mouth. I had planned to examine her legs and feet to see how they were aligned with the rest of her body, as I had yet to work on anything but her torso. But why in the hell did I pick now to do it, when I was already so preoccupied with the thought of those limbs wrapped around me?

"Okay," she said softly, her eyes fathomless in the amber glow of my desk lamp. I felt them follow me as I moved down to the end of the table and wrapped one hand around her slender ankle, feeling the connection between her foot and leg. It was angled a bit, not straight like it should be. I wasn't surprised; the twist that ran through her torso continued its detrimental journey right down her leg. I massaged her foot gently with my other hand, continuing to work her ankle in tandem. Her toenails were painted a deep eggplant that looked black in the dim light. A bit goth, and disturbingly sexy.

I worked my way slowly up her shin and calf, gently stretching the areas that were pulled tight. I marveled at the length of her legs, impossibly long and leanly muscled for such a petite girl. The soft swell of her thigh beneath my ascending hand nearly made me groan out loud. I imagined grasping and squeezing it while she rode me like racehorse.

_For fuck's sake, Cullen, calm down, _ordered the one sliver of cogent brain matter than remained in my obsessed head. I began to wonder if the fact that I had made her off-limits, sexually speaking, is what rendered me so desperate to have her. Maybe I was just behaving like a petulant child, craving the one treat I wasn't allowed to enjoy. But what was the answer? Allowing myself to enjoy her? Not possible.

I carefully worked my fingers under the flannel sheet and over the lace of her panties until I found her hip joint. I pushed on it gently, then more firmly, and watched her face for signs of pain. She winced slightly, but I pressed on. The muscle needed to give way in order for her hips to be moved back where they belonged. I knew Emmett had already done something similar using a pressure point technique, but my method would work longer, slower, deeper.

"Try to relax," I whispered as I pushed my fingers more insistently against the joint. Her brow furrowed again and she whimpered softly, but I didn't give in. She would have to take a little discomfort in order for progress to happen. And I wasn't giving up until she was better. No matter that in the back of my mind I had an ulterior motive: I wanted those hips as stable as possible before I positioned myself between them and thrust inside her, repeatedly and recklessly. I could deny it, but the thought, the desire, would not be ignored.

It also wouldn't be acted upon, I reminded myself.

And so the rest of the session went: the angel on one shoulder supervising as I treated her other leg, smoothing out its twists and turns; the devil on the other, daring me to do the things I really wanted to those gorgeous legs. The hour drew to a close, and the angel won. The devil retreated to the merciless throbbing in my groin.

"How do you feel?" I asked, trying to make my tone of voice benign.

"Incredible," she sighed, wiggling her feet beneath the sheet. "I don't know what you did, but my whole body feels… _alive_." She said the last word with relish, and I knew I truly couldn't take any more.

"That's good. That's the way it's supposed to be," I answered softly, my voice nearly strangled in the grip of my rampant hormones. "I'll leave you to get dressed and meet you outside."

She nodded and I escaped the room with a relieved sigh. I'm completely embarrassed to admit that I had to make a beeline to the men's room to jerk off like a prepubescent with no control over himself. But there was no way I could face her out in the front office, knowing my dick would be pointing straight up at her, desperate for her to relieve its misery. So I relieved it myself, swiftly and thoroughly, before it stole one more bit of my brain power.

I washed my hands thoroughly when I was finished, then splashed my face with cold water for good measure. I put on my calm, composed, professional look, checked its appearance in the mirror, and made my way out to the reception area.

Isabella was writing a check for the appointment. She pushed it across the countertop toward me before I could protest. When I glanced at it, I saw that it was made out for the full amount of the past three sessions.

"Miss Swan, I told you I would work with your insurance company to try to get these treatments covered. I'll have my father write a letter of reference if necessary. You don't need to pay for these now," I told her with a frown. I actually hated the idea of her paying me for my time. I would work on her gratis for the rest of my life if it meant that I could improve her health.

"I appreciate that, I really do," she said earnestly. "If I get reimbursed, that's great. But I got paid yesterday, so it's fine, really. I want to give you what I owe you. You and Emmett have already made a big difference in how I'm feeling, and there's no price I can put on that."

There was no price that could be put on how gratified that made me feel, either. I smiled back at her and accepted the payment, ringing it up and handing her the receipt. My fingers brushed against hers and I felt the ripple effect up my arm.

"So, are you excited about your date with Jacob tonight?" I asked abruptly, trying to keep the bite of sarcasm out of my tone. _Real smooth, Cullen, _I berated myself.

Her eyes narrowed and she studied me a moment, her lips twisting into a slight grin. She was enjoying my jealousy. Fine. At least she had a hint of what I was going through. I don't think I could stand it if I was really out on this limb by myself.

"I'm looking forward to catching up with him. We haven't talked in awhile," she answered coyly.

"It's nice to reconnect with old friends," I agreed, certain my tone gave away my annoyance.

"I'm actually looking forward to all of us hanging out together later," she told me. "Didn't you say Emmett and Jasper would be coming along with you and Alice?"

I nodded, pleased at her attempt to subvert attention from her alone time with Jacob. "Yeah, they all want to check out the band. Should be fun."

"I think so," she agreed with a smile. "I can't wait to introduce you all to my boss, Rosalie. She's kind of a force to be reckoned with, but she's good at what she does. If she believes in the Wolf Pack, she'll really go to bat for them. I'm excited for them. A lot is riding on how they perform tonight."

I gave her a half-smile, trying to put aside my pettiness and be happy for her friends. "What time should we show up? You know, so we don't interrupt your date." The last word came out like a dart, sharp and piercing. _Fucking hell, why can't I just cut my tongue out and be done with it?_

Her eyebrow raised and she gave me that shrewd, questioning look again. "We're having dinner early, but we have to be at the Whale by 8 p.m. The band goes on at nine. So, anytime after eight would be good." She paused a moment, then added, "That way you can have dinner with Kate beforehand or something."

I could feel my eyebrows shoot up toward my hairline. Was she serious? I suddenly realized that she thought there might be something going on between me and Katrina, the same way I assumed there was something between her and Jacob. Oh, this was rich. I was tempted to set her straight on the subject of Kate, but then thought better of it. If I had to worry about this Jacob kid, then it wouldn't hurt for her to wonder about Kate, either. Very high school, I know. But I was kind of enjoying this game of cat and mouse. Having a little leverage now made my uncontrollable behavior during our session a little easier to live with.

"Kate won't be coming with us tonight," I informed her simply with a beatific smile. I scrutinized her face, enjoying the upturned corners of her mouth immensely.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. She seems nice," Isabella said rather disingenuously.

I couldn't stop the Cheshire grin that spread across my face. "She's very nice. You'd like her."

Her chin lifted ever so slightly as she replied, "The way you'll like Jake, I'm sure."

I let out a soft chuckle, loving that she was enjoying this as much as I was. "Absolutely. I look forward to getting to know him better."

She let out a quick snort of laughter as well. "Really, now?

"Well…not half as much as I'd like to get to know you," I boldly admitted. The resultant blush that flooded her cheeks was in danger of making my dick stir to life again, and I was beginning to not care.

And then, because our flirtation was taking such an interesting turn, my baby sister managed to ruin it by bursting through the front door at that precise moment. I still haven't determined whether that was a blessing or a curse. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Hey, Bella! Are you ready to go bend your body into a pretzel?" she grinned in greeting.

_Thanks for the imagery, Alice, _I thought grimly.

"Um, no," Isabella said frankly with a feeble laugh. "You said this class was for beginners."

"It is, don't worry. They show different variations of the poses for beginners and intermediates, so you can ease into it. You'll be fine." She looked up at me and added, "I'll take good care of her, Edward, I promise." She made an elaborate show of crossing her heart with her index finger.

"Yeah, no undoing all my hard work," I joked. "Isabella is doing much better and I don't want anything ruining that."

"Am I, really?" my patient asked with a hopeful smile.

"You are. You've improved a lot already. Your tissues and muscles are becoming much more flexible. The yoga will be good for you," I assured her.

"Okay," she sighed, sounding like I'd just sent her off to the gallows instead of yoga class. I couldn't help but chuckle, and the dour look she gave me only made me laugh more.

"Come on, let's go or we'll be late," Alice ordered, heading for the door. "Do you have gym clothes with you?"

"Yeah, they're in the car," Ms. Swan answered, following my sister after giving me a small wave good-bye.

"Have fun," I called after them with mock enthusiasm. Isabella turned back long enough to make a rather snide face at me, which amused me greatly.

"See you tonight," I replied with a smirk. The smirk faded as her pheromones dissipated from the air around me. What was I thinking, flirting with her like that? It wasn't even flirting, really. More like a clumsy profession of truth. I do want to get to know her better, in every way possible. And I couldn't stop myself from looking forward to this evening, regardless of the fact that she would technically be on a date with someone else. She might not think so, but I was willing to bet that Jacob Black did.

I clobbered Kate at tennis again this afternoon. Every time I pictured Isabella in the "cat" or "downward-facing dog" yoga positions, I would channel the resulting sexual frustration into a brutal backhand return. After only one match, Katrina yelled, "I surrender!" from her end of the court.

"What, giving up so soon?" I teased as I jogged down to meet her.

"There's no point in trying to beat you when you're keyed up like this," she sighed with a shake of her head. She picked up her water bottle and took a hefty swig, then changed the subject.

"So how are things going with the patient you're not supposed to be pursuing?" she asked, giving me an accusatory look. I should know I can't get anything past her.

"Great. Fantastic. So good that I had to go jack off in the bathroom like a 12-year-old after I treated her today." I grabbed her water bottle and took a few gulps, ignoring her flabbergasted expression.

"Oh, no you didn't," she gasped before giggling profusely.

"Oh, yeah. And it gets better. I'm also crashing her date with another guy tonight."

Her eyes were saucers, and her open mouth matched. "Who are you, and what have you done with Edward Cullen?"

I could only grin in response. Something in my face must have given me away, because she said the very thing that I'd been thinking.

"…Or maybe this is a taste of the old Edward, and I'm finally getting a glimpse of him."

"You could be on to something there," I admitted ruefully. "Clearly my behavior has regressed at least ten years."

"Well, there is that," she agreed with a laugh. She squinted up at me a moment, studying me. "But it's more like there's a spark in your eyes that I've never seen before. Sort of a mischievous twinkle. I don't know, exactly. But something's different."

_What's different is that I met someone who makes me feel alive again, _I thought, cringing at the hackneyed phrase. But the truth of it outweighed the triteness. I merely shrugged and helped Kate gather up her gear, heading back to the clubhouse. Before we went our separate ways, she leaned in the open window of my Volvo and said, "I don't recommend masturbating in your office, and I certainly don't condone date-crashing, especially on a client. But I have to say … Isabella Swan looks good on you."

Her words from this afternoon rang in my ears as I now watched Isabella Swan look good on Jacob Black. I didn't want to admit it, but she did. She was relaxed and smiling as she stood close to him, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. They were near the stage, talking to some of the other guys I recognized from The Wolf Pack. Jacob was waving around an Amstel Light as he spoke. His teeth practically glowed in the dark under the low bar light.

"So, that must be Bella's date," Jasper stated, following my gaze. He hadn't really met Jake or his Quileute band mates since Alice had monopolized most of his time at the Java Shack a couple weeks ago. "Nice teeth."

I couldn't help but grin at Jasper's assessment, the sarcasm barely detectable in his low-key delivery.

"Aren't they? Maybe I should find out the name of his dentist."

"Don't bother. I've got a bottle of Clorox at home that you can gargle with. Much cheaper."

Jazz and I exchanged puerile snickers and clinked Heineken bottles together.

"Well, are we gonna stand here and take some more pot shots at this guy, or do you wanna go introduce me to him and your… client?" His emphasis on that last word let me know that I hadn't fooled him for a moment when it came to my feelings about Ms. Swan.

"I suppose I shouldn't put off the inevitable any longer," I agreed. She hadn't seen me when Jasper and I arrived, but I noticed her almost instantly, her effortless beauty easy to spot amongst the overly made-up girls who frequented the Whale. It was also hard to ignore the way Jacob Black seemed to be touching her constantly in some way, as though he were trying to establish ownership over her slight frame. I was again overwhelmed at how much I disliked this guy already.

I shook off the jealousy, gave Jasper a nod and headed toward the front of the bar as he followed. I couldn't take my eyes off of Isabella as I approached, waiting for her to notice me, eager to gauge her reaction.

A wave of pleasure traveled through me when she caught my gaze, her eyes widening and her smile broadening. Better yet, she took a quick step away from Jacob, causing his arm to fall from her shoulders.

"Hey, Edward," she greeted me, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. "I'm glad you could come."

_As if I would miss an opportunity like this. _

"Isabella," I replied smoothly, "this is my friend Jasper Whitlock. Jasper, Isabella Swan. And Jacob Black, if I remember correctly," I added evenly, including my nemesis in the introductions. I wasn't about to let any ruffled feathers show concerning the amiable-looking kid who shook hands in greeting with us once again.

He re-introduced us to the other guys in the band, and Jasper immediately got into a conversation with guitarist Paul over the vintage Strat that that rested with his onstage gear.

"Oh, man. I still can't believe you didn't tell me your boss was coming tonight," Jacob complained to Isabella, his body bouncing up and down with nervous energy. He turned his attention to me and said, "Bella waits and springs this on me at dinner, that her A&R manager is coming to check out our gig. I mean, this is huge. If we had known, we would have rehearsed a little more, you know? Made sure that we were really tight." He gave her a gentle tap on the arm with his fist, like a mock punch. I wanted to punch him for real for even joking about hitting her. She didn't seem to see it that way, for she only giggled.

"Isabella likes the element of surprise," I told him, though my eyes refused to leave her face. "She'd rather see what you've got when you're not self-conscious and trying too hard."

Her eyes widened in surprise and a grin stole across her face. If she had ever wondered if I had been paying attention, her questions were now answered.

"Edward's right. It's better if you don't have time to over-think things too much. I know you guys have rehearsed plenty. Now it's time to just… let go." Her gaze drifted back to me, and I comprehended her meaning perfectly. My pulse began to race, and a maelstrom of emotions flooded me, threatening to overwhelm whatever bit of reason I had left.

I drained the last of my beer in a few greedy gulps and excused myself to get another, asking if I could get her anything before I escaped. She told me she was fine, while Jacob's deep-set eyes darkened at me in annoyance. Clearly he saw himself as the one who would take care of her needs, and he didn't appreciate my interference. I hid the childish smugness I felt and headed for the bar, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. Did I really want to do this?

I took a long draught of my second Heineken and felt inevitability wash through me along with the beer. I was losing any choice in the matter. I could no more ignore the pull toward Isabella Swan than I could stop the twilight from coming every evening. Those deep brown eyes of hers would eventually consume me, and I was beginning to crave the warm, soothing darkness I sensed I would find if I let myself drown there.

As I turned from the bar to make my way back to the stage, a woman who was the antithesis of Isabella's soft warmth blew past me like an arctic front. Blonde hair flying, crystalline eyes flashing, she practically stormed through the crowd toward the stage, appearing as if she would trample anyone foolish enough to cross her path. Her beauty was astonishing - icy, perfect, forbidding. I couldn't help but appreciate her curves as she flounced by me, but I knew her type - more trouble than she's worth.

I followed the blonde curiously, somehow not surprised when she halted in front of Ms. Swan and began gesticulating wildly, obviously quite upset about something and venting to my client. Isabella looked sympathetic to the blonde's plight, whatever it was, and seemed eager to placate her. As I approached and began to hear snippets of the blonde's tirade, I realized that I might have had my first glimpse of Rosalie Hale.

"…and then this Neanderthal has the nerve to tell me that if I had signaled sooner and not slammed on the brakes to steal _his_ parking space-AS IF!-he never would have hit me. I reminded him that if he hadn't been riding my ass for two blocks with his giant gas-guzzling Range Rover and talking to his girlfriend instead of paying attention to what he was doing, he wouldn't have plowed into me!"

Range Rover? Uh-oh. Surely she wasn't talking about….

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see my brother and sister approach. Emmett looked from me to the blonde and a huge grin split his face. He put his index finger up to his lips to silence me before I said anything. He and Alice lined up next to me and the three of us stood in silence, listening. Alice looked up at me and shook her head, rolling her eyes a bit, as the blonde carried on.

"I know the type. Thinks he owns the road with his giant fucking 4-wheel-drive monster truck. He probably looks for little Beemer convertibles like mine to play bumper cars with down the highway. I told him if there was so much as a scratch on the bumper, I would make him replace the whole thing."

"So, was there? A scratch?" Isabella asked, biting her lip worriedly. Her eyes darted from the blonde's face to Emmett's bemused one behind her.

"No, luckily for him. I would have taken that gorilla to the cleaners. I'm telling you, if my car acts up even a little in the next month, I will hunt him down and make him pay, one way or the other. You know what I always say about guys who drive over-priced penis extensions like that Ranger Rover of his: he's clearly compensating for lacking in another department." She held up her thumb and index finger about three inches apart in illustration, just to make sure we got the drift.

Emmett could no longer contain his mirth. "Tell you what, Blondie. Why don't you take me for a test drive so I can disprove that theory?"

Alice began giggling as the blonde whirled to face us, anger and surprise twisting her lovely features. When she looked up at Emmett's grinning mug, fury took over.

"You have got to be kidding me," she snarled. "You followed me in here? I told you I don't want to exchange names and numbers. I'd prefer to forget this whole incident ever happened."

"Fine. That will make it hard for you to 'hunt me down and make me pay' if there's anything wrong with your precious Beemer, though. But I'll enjoy seeing you try."

The twinkle in my brother's eye was unmistakable. He loves nothing more than a challenge. He welcomes women like Rosalie Hale with open arms. "I love a handful," he's fond of saying. "Two handfuls is even better."

Isabella piped up before her employer could unfurl another string of invectives. "Rosalie, he didn't follow you in here. I invited him here tonight. He's my chiropractor, Emmett Cullen. That's his sister Alice, and brother Edward, my massage therapist," she finished, pointing at us one by one. "This is my boss, Rosalie Hale." She gave us a pleading look, imploring us to play nice.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Emmett replied, grabbing Rosalie's manicured hand and planting a kiss on top before she could withdraw it in a huff.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, still glaring. "I'm surprised he doesn't crush you to death by accident," she said to Isabella, her eyes raking up and down Emmett's brawn. There was definitely something else in her expression besides distaste.

I leaned down and whispered in Alice's ear, "Here we go."

She giggled and put her hand up to my ear. "You should have seen them going at it outside. We barely bumped her car, but she came out screaming like a banshee. It was hilarious. Emmett was so into it, I thought he might throw her down on the hood and mack on her; and I'll bet you a 12-pack that she would have loved it."

"Oh, I won't take that bet. I think you're right."

We stopped whispering in time to hear our brother insist on buying Rosalie a drink, saying it was the least he could do for causing her and her vehicle so much undue distress. "I'll even throw in a free chiropractic treatment," he added. "You know, in case my rear-ending you so violently caused any damage to that lovely neck of yours."

"You're disgusting. And I'll take a Glenlivet on the rocks."

"I love a woman with expensive taste," he grinned. "When I get back, let me tell you my theories about women who drive candy-apple red luxury convertibles. You might find them interesting."

Rosalie gave him a half-hearted sneer, her eyebrow raising provocatively. She excused herself to go to the ladies' room, while Alice and I exchanged knowing looks that said, _Game on._

We decided to pull a couple of tables together before the place got too crowded, and the band went to finish setting up their gear. I was glad to see Jacob disappear behind his drum kit, though I didn't mind if he caught a glimpse of me pulling out a chair for Isabella and then seating myself beside her. Alice and Jasper got cozy across the table from us.

"God, what a disaster," Isabella moaned, propping her elbow on the table and resting her temple in her hand, her body turning toward mine. "Could there be a worse scenario than Emmett and Rose getting in a fender-bender?"

I shook my head and let out a laugh. "It's not that bad. In fact, I'm kind of thinking that that was a perfect set-up. A real ice-breaker."

She gave me an incredulous look. "Seriously? You don't want to get on Rosalie's bad side. She's the coolest boss ever, but she does have a temper and she's not afraid to use it."

"If anyone can handle a firecracker like Rosalie, it's my brother. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is his favorite type of foreplay. And I don't think Rosalie is as averse to the idea as she appears."

Isabella raised a skeptical eyebrow, while Alice agreed with my assessment. Jasper wisely refrained from comment, and instead offered to pick up the next round of drinks. He ordered a pitcher for the four of us, and we settled in as the band started to warm up. Rosalie returned and sat next to Bella, and the two of them began "talking shop" about The Wolf Pack. A strange discomfort pulled at my insides while they discussed the viability of the band - their look, their sound, their general appeal and talent level. I had never aspired to be a professional musician, but listening to the girl I already adored sound so excited about someone else's potential produced a new and unwelcome envy within me.

Emmett returned with drinks for Rosalie and himself, then sat across from her and leered at her relentlessly. I couldn't see her reaction very well from where I was sitting, but I could see that whatever it was, it only egged my brother on. I know him well, and it was clear that he would not rest until he broke down this woman's defenses.

I knew a thing or two about crumbling defenses, the hairs on my arm rising every time I brushed against Isabella. Having her so close was maddening. I loved the nearness, but it only sparked a craving for more. I hated Jacob Black for being able to so effortlessly touch her and pull her close, knowing that she wouldn't take offense. Then again, I was certain that if I did the same, she would not react negatively.

And yet I couldn't do it. I couldn't make the move. I sat next to her in a quandary of frustration for the rest of the evening, dividing my time between watching the band and watching her. I would have studied her exclusively if I could have gotten away with it. The way her eyes gleamed and her body swayed in time with the music was mesmerizing to me.

I watched The Wolf Pack long enough to discern just how talented each musician was, and how well they worked together. Their synergy was very good. Jacob and the bass-player, Seth, were in perfect sync, providing the solid rhythm section necessary to anchor a band and let the guitarists and singer shine. Quil did a fine job on rhythm guitar while Paul was a madman on lead, truly gifted and drawing lots of cheers from the crowd for his biting solos. Sam was a solid front man, having a kind of alpha-male presence that commanded respect. The Wolf Pack was good. I observed Rosalie and Jasper studying them, and could see that their judgments matched mine.

I looked at Isabella to see her reaction, and caught her looking at me instead, her eyes intense, lips parted. Oh, God. I wanted to kiss her so badly I thought I might explode. I could feel my face drifting closer, my eyes pulled into hers, the breath coming fast between my lips.

"Wow, that was fantastic!" Rosalie suddenly exclaimed, grabbing her employee's arm as the song drew to a close. Isabella blinked up at me a moment, a long sigh escaping her mouth. She seemed to pull away from me with reluctance, turning to her boss and agreeing that the set had been great.

It was the last song of the night, and the cheers and applause were thunderous in appreciation. Isabella's friends had done well. They had set out what they wanted to do in impressing Rosalie Hale, and had made Isabella look good in the process. I reminded myself that any musical find of hers that ended up being successful could only be good for her, and my petty jealousies needed to take a back seat.

The band made their way past the patrons who congratulated them and surrounded the two Java Noise reps, thanking them for listening, and asking about the next step in getting signed with the company, if the offer was on the table. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but I overheard Rosalie saying something about bringing in some higher-ups to hear the band and they would talk after that.

The excited band members went to tear down their equipment, Jacob grabbing Isabella in a sort of headlock and planting a kiss in her hair first. I barely had time to register my irritation before he released her and bounded back up on the stage.

"Well, that was definitely worth my time," Rosalie smiled at Isabella. "Regardless of the pain and suffering I endured on the way here," she added with a sour look at Emmett. Emmett smiled angelically in return, clearly undaunted.

"I knew you wouldn't be disappointed," Isabella replied. She glanced at me, then over at Jasper. "You know, Rose, Jasper has a band of his own that I think could be promising. I've heard him do some solo work that was great." Her eyes flitted to mine again, slightly hopeful, but mostly resigned.

"Oh yeah?" Rosalie said, her eyebrows raising at Jasper. "What kind of music do you do?"

"Kind of a weird blend of blues, folk and rockabilly," he grinned slowly, surprised but pleased that Isabella had gone to bat for him. "We need a little more rehearsal time and some gigs under our belt before we waste your time," he said modestly.

"Well, I trust Bella's judgment. Maybe she can record you sometime and I'll take a listen."

"He and a friend are playing Thursday night at the Java House again," Alice interjected, wisely avoiding looking at me and giving the "friend" away. "You'll come, won't you, Bella?"

"Of course," she smiled. "I wouldn't miss it." Her leg drifted over and touched mine under the table, waking up my hyperactive dick again. I took a deep breath and concentrated on keeping my hand from grabbing her thigh.

Rosalie said she'd love to hear Bella's recording of Jazz, and then got up and excused herself, saying she had to meet her parents for an early brunch tomorrow. Emmett immediately rose from the table and insisted on escorting her to her car. She snapped that she didn't want him anywhere near her vehicle, since he could probably dent it just by leaning on it with his beefy paws. He replied that he'd make sure he rested his beefy paws on softer, less rigid surfaces just in case.

"Lay one finger on me and I'll mace you so thoroughly you won't be able to see for a week," she hissed as she sashayed away from the table.

Emmett ogled her ass lewdly and said, "Ah, but then I won't be able to appreciate your beauty, and that would be a travesty."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she muttered over her shoulder.

"Ah, how my lady lies," Emmett said, his voice trailing off as he followed her toward the door.

The four of us exchanged looks and began to laugh simultaneously.

"This is the best time I've had all summer," Alice announced. "Classic."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I love nearly having heart failure when I find out that my chiropractor just had a fender-bender with my boss."

"It was nothing, really," Alice insisted. "We barely tapped her car and she went ballistic. She must be a bear to work for!"

"Actually, she's not. I mean, she does have a temper, but I don't think I've ever seen her riled up like that. Emmett seems to know how to push her buttons."

"That he does," Jasper agreed with his usual subtle innuendo and a quirk of one eyebrow. "Match made in heaven."

"Or hell," I laughed.

"Or both," Alice grinned.

After our laughter subsided, Jasper thanked Isabella for mentioning him to Rosalie and told her how much he appreciated it. He said that he and his band have been rehearsing a lot and are going to try to line up some shows soon. "I'll try not to let you down," he told her.

"Impossible. You're so good, truly. I'm really looking forward to seeing you again." Her leg pressed harder against mine and she looked up at me. "Both of you."

I wondered what she would do if I really did kiss her, right here in the middle of the bar, in front of Alice and Jasper. But I knew I wouldn't do it. Our first kiss deserved better than that.

And then I realized that I was thinking in terms of "firsts" instead of "nevers."

_Let the drowning begin._

"Speaking of the band, I've got a lot of stuff I've got to take care of tomorrow," Jasper announced. "You ready to take off?" he asked me.

"Sure," I reluctantly replied. Since I'd given him a ride here, I didn't have much of a choice, unless I forced him to close down the bar with me. I turned to Isabella, and without much hope asked her, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No, Jacob brought me. The band won't be too much longer tearing down the stage. Thanks for the offer, though." I wanted to believe that there was as much disappointed longing in her eyes as there was in mine.

"Okay," I answered softly. "I'll see you Thursday, then." I squeezed her shoulder briefly as I rose from my chair, the cotton of her t-shirt soft under my fingers. It was as much as I dared to do, and I hated my cowardice.

She nodded up at me as Jasper and I left, while Alice promised to stay awhile and keep Bella company until Jake was free. Jasper and I passed Emmett as we made our way to the door and laughed at his shit-eating grin.

"Did she deck you?" I joked.

"Hell, no. She did, however, agree to have dinner with me next Saturday night." He blew on his fingernails and polished them on his collarbone in a gesture of victory.

Jasper laughed and high-fived Emmett while I shook my head. So now my brother is going to date Isabella Swan's boss. Just what I need - one more thing pulling me into her personal sphere outside of the office.

"You can thank me now or later," Jasper commented as we climbed into the Volvo.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"I know you wanted to hang around there and fuck with Bella and Jake's so-called date. I saved you from making a nuisance of yourself."

"Oh, thanks. I'm forever grateful that you dragged me away early so that I can spend the rest of the night wondering what the hell's going on between them."

"You should be grateful!" Jazz exclaimed, scowling at me. "How many times have you told me that clients are off-limits? You can't date her, and I can see how much that's getting to you. Why put yourself in temptation's way?"

I sighed as I pulled out into the glowing night traffic that crept through the city. "You're right, I know. But I'm getting to the point where… I don't care anymore."

I could feel Jasper's shrewd gaze on me. "That can be dangerous territory, you know." He paused, then added, "I'm not just talking about the doctor/patient thing, either."

"I know. Believe me. I just don't know how much longer I can stay away."

We drove in silence for a moment. Finally Jasper said, "Can you make it until Thursday, anyway?"

I looked over at his lopsided grin and returned one of my own. "Yeah, I can do that much."

But now that I'm home, all I can do is look at the clock and wonder if Jacob Black is kissing Isabella Swan good night. Or worse.

"She won't let him do that, will she?" I said aloud.

Only this time, I wasn't just talking to the empty air. A loud purr sounded in response to my question, and a pair of yellow eyes glowed reassuringly at me from the couch cushion next to mine. I scratched under Lucky's chin while he rubbed his furry cheek into my hand.

I know this is the only reassurance I'll have for tonight.


	10. Resolve, part 1

**As always, thanks to Stephenie ****Meyer for creating such a fun world to play with; and thanks to all of you for your support. I just hope you have as much fun reading as I do coming up with this stuff.**

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 1**

I couldn't get past the fact that Jacob Black chewed with his mouth open.

To be fair, he was talking at the time. Of course, that's probably even worse on the scale of bad manners. But Jake is so entertaining when he's on a roll that I tried to let it slide.

I knew he'd have a minor freak-out when I told him that Rosalie would be checking out the Wolf Pack's set last night, but I was beginning to feel guilty that I hadn't given him any warning whatsoever. I'd been acting in accord with my general philosophy, which is that music flows better when its makers aren't under pressure; but when Jake filled me in on the troubles the band had been having lately, I couldn't help but want to give him a piece of good news.

His reaction didn't disappoint. He practically howled in excitement, which drew a lot of strange looks from everyone around us in the restaurant until they caught his infectious smile. He was high as a kite after that, inhaling the rest of the chips-n-salsa at warp speed and digging into his giant beef burrito with gusto. I noticed that he sometimes held his fork in his fist, shoveling refried beans into his mouth like a hungry prisoner on rations. Was he just excited, or did he truly not know any better? He did grow up without a mom, for the most part. Surely his older sisters would have instilled some manners into him, though, wouldn't they?

I gave him an indulgent smile as my mind strayed to dinner at the Istanbul Grill forty-eight hours ago. Edward Cullen had impeccable manners, naturally. He never rested his elbows on the table while eating. He kept his mouth closed while chewing. He swallowed before speaking. As I thought back to that evening and recalled how he managed to take big bites out of his falafel pita without dribbling sauce down his chin, it dawned on me that the Cullens had had a privileged upbringing.

I began putting together the bits and pieces of the little I knew about Edward Cullen: Twenty-something guy with his own business, co-owned by his chiropractor brother, located across the hall from their father's family practice. Sister following in their footsteps by attending Stanford medical school (and also eating with the daintiness of a bird across the table from me.) Collection of rare vintage guitars. Tennis outings with an upper-crusty-looking blonde. Emily Post-approved behavior in every situation.

Edward Cullen had no doubt been groomed for the pinnacle of success from the time he came out of the womb. The realization made me even more fascinated with his resultant rebellious streak, which manifested itself in subtle but consistent ways: The untamable hair. The perpetual beard stubble. The rumpled, threadbare clothes. The untied shoelaces that constantly defied their grommets. Edward cultivated an unstudied, laissez-faire attitude whenever he wasn't required to behave otherwise.

I was suddenly determined to make him stop behaving altogether around me.

As I watched Jake inhale his food with the finesse of a longshoreman, I wondered why the sight vaguely repulsed me, even as I dreamed of bringing Edward Cullen's baser instincts to the surface. The irony of my double standard didn't miss me, but the reason behind it did. Jake was sweet, warm, funny, open and unassuming. Why wasn't I willing to look past a few flaws in him, when I was half in love with the flaws in Edward?

Maybe it was because I knew that when it came to Jake, what you see is what you get. There was no deep mystery there to discover. Edward, on the other hand, was an intriguing sum of dichotomies that might take me the rest of my life to figure out. I already knew I'd love nothing more than to have the opportunity to try.

But maybe Edward was more appealing because he was so tantalizingly close, yet still out of reach. Did I simply want what I couldn't have?

I decided to concentrate on what was in front of me before I dismissed it entirely. Besides, if I didn't start paying attention to Jake's non-stop nervous chatter about the upcoming show, he might get suspicious. I could only "yeah" and "uh-huh" my way through dinner for so long before my preoccupied rudeness became obvious, and unforgivable.

"So, does Rosalie have final say on whether or not we get signed?" Jake asked, eyes alight with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

"Not exactly, but her approval is key. She likes your demo already, or she wouldn't be coming to hear you tonight. If she's impressed with your live show, she'll set up a meeting with Mark and Sam - the VP's in A&R and product development - so they can weigh in on whether or not they think you're a good fit for the label, what the best direction is for your sound, how to market the band, etc." I stopped when Jake started to look more panicked than excited, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't worry, it's not as scary as it sounds," I reassured him. "I already know that The Wolf Pack is a good fit for Java Noise, or I wouldn't have pushed you guys to Rosalie so much. I didn't do it just because you're all friends of mine. I did it because I truly believe you guys are great and deserve the break. And you could actually make me a lot of money, let's not forget," I concluded, only half-joking.

"I am more than happy to do that, Bells," Jake laughed good-naturedly. He flagged down our waitress and ordered some Mexican fried ice cream for dessert, while I declined the offer for my own, still stuffed from my quesadillas.

"So if this thing really happens, I guess we need to find a lawyer, huh? Somebody to help us with the contract and stuff." He shook his head as if in wonderment that his dreams might be about to come true. His excitement began to rub off on me, and I remembered why I got into this business in the first place.

"Yeah, you will. You definitely need to get good management and an entertainment lawyer, but we can help you out with that stuff. We work with all our artists to make sure we're all on the same page as far as the vision and direction of the band goes. If you're happy, then we're happy, generally speaking."

"Well, then, you're about to be ecstatic, if this whole thing pans out," Jake grinned, while I laughed in a agreement.

Jake's dessert arrived, and I was treated to the sight of him spooning huge globs of cinnamon-covered goo past his pearly whites as he waxed poetic about being a musician.

"Dad always thought I was crazy for wanting this so much. I'm sure he would have loved it if I'd gone to college while I just did the band thing on the side," he said with a shake of his head. "But when I'm playing live, nothing else in the world exists. Nothing can touch it. It's the only time I feel truly alive. It's like - " he paused to shovel more ice cream and find the right words - "like my life makes sense from behind a drum kit. That probably sounds stupid," he finished sheepishly, digging into the last of his dessert.

"No, it doesn't. It makes perfect sense to me." I vaguely remember what it felt like to get lost - and found - in my own creative process. I was just beginning to tap into that side of myself before the accident. I couldn't bring myself to even try after that. Now I just experience that euphoria vicariously through my clients.

"Try not to be too nervous about tonight," I advised him. "I have a good feeling about it. I think everything's going to go really well."

Jake raised an eyebrow as he picked up the check. "Hope you're right."

As it turned out, I was - about the band, at any rate. The adrenaline was clearly pumping through Jake and his Quileute brothers as they kicked into their driving opening number, and it didn't let up as they put on a blistering show. A good chunk of the crowd was on its feet from the beginning, many of them singing along with the songs. Rose was pleased to see that they already had a loyal following, and she noted possible singles from their original material. She also made comments about their long-term potential, and possible ways to market them, to which I readily agreed. I tried to make it appear that I was giving my full attention to the Wolf Pack, and I was glad I'd seen them before so that I could pull it off.

Because the truth was, my mind was almost completely consumed with the debilitating proximity of Edward Cullen.

I was grateful that I had to look away from him in order to watch the band. That way, it would appear that I was actually paying attention to the musicians instead of him. But every cell in my body was hyperactively attuned to the warm maleness of him sitting mere inches to my left, the silken hairs of his arm occasionally brushing against mine, luring me closer. I could feel his eyes on me, probing deeper than his fingers had that morning, stripping me, exposing me. My eyelids drifted shut and I imagined this in the literal sense, overwhelmed at how good the fear felt. I knew I would open myself willingly to him, in every way, no matter how I tried to resist. I was resigned to my surrender. The resignation was entralling.

He was beginning to open himself to me, too, though I dared not hope for too much. I was secretly thrilled when he seated himself next to me last night, no longer putting a buffer between us. It somehow felt like an echo of the massage he'd given me that morning. Our session had seemed more intimate than ever before, his fingers firm and demanding against my flesh, his breathing almost labored as he worked his way down my body. When he began stroking my legs at his usual intoxicatingly slow pace, it was all I could do to keep from moaning out loud in frustrated pleasure. The moans became harder to suppress as his hands climbed inexorably up my thighs, maddeningly close to the aching desire that burned between them. I wanted to grab his fingers and press them against the damp lace there… to make him feel what he was doing to me; to invite him to do more.

But of course, I didn't. When he abruptly ended our session and exited the room, I put my own fingers there instead, fantasizing of his as I speedily massaged myself to a burning climax, right there on Edward Cullen's massage table.

_This is crazy_, I berated myself as I dressed quickly, smoothed my hair and bolted to the front desk so he wouldn't wonder what had taken me so long. As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. He had disappeared as well. I busied myself writing him a check for services rendered, feeling half-ashamed as I did so. It seemed wrong on several levels to be paying this guy for the amazing things he did to me, even if he was completely unaware of half of them.

He looked a little flushed when he finally appeared, and I wondered how red my own cheeks were as I concentrated on my check-writing. He tried to refuse payment, which was very chivalrous of him. His hand brushed mine when he finally took my check; the flames licked up my arm and burned across my already fiery face.

I think he felt it too, because he began flirting with me. I could barely believe it, but he seemed unmistakably jealous of my upcoming date with Jake. I reveled in his jealousy and egged it on. But my own insecurities came to the surface, making me test Alice's theory that I shouldn't be worried about Kate. The smug bastard had the audacity to be as noncommittal about her as I had been about Jake. And just as the jealousy playing field became even and things were about to get interesting, Alice showed up to ruin the game.

I told her as much as we left for yoga class. She only giggled and said it was good for us, and that I should let Edward stew in his own juices for awhile, because it would help him come around. I had to take her word for it, and remind myself that I'd see him again that evening.

Yoga class was as awkward and disagreeable as I'd surmised it would be, though I admit that I felt better when it was over. My body felt completely alive, yet relaxed and "loose" at the same time. I used the energy to house-clean, which I despise. Angela was out with Ben, and I knew he'd be staying the evening at our place, so I thought it would be a nice gift to them both to make the place spotless. After all, they had both helped me out whenever my stupid back had given out in the past.

I got so absorbed in the task that I nearly wasn't ready when Jake stopped by to pick me up for dinner. My hair was still damp from my shower as I hastily threw on a clean t-shirt when the doorbell rang. He suggested a casual Mexican restaurant for dinner since we were dressed down to fit the Thirsty Whale vibe later on. His greeting hug was casual as well. He didn't seem to think of this as a "real" date any more than I did. I was fairly certain that Edward was worried for nothing - if he was, indeed, worried.

As we left the duplex and headed out to Jake's old VW parked down the street, the thought of Edward's jealousy made a secret smile creep across my face. Jake caught it and smiled in return, apparently thinking he had put it there. After that, his beefy brown hand took up residence on my shoulder, and remained there for a good chunk of the evening. I hoped I hadn't inadvertently created a monster.

I didn't really mind his arm around me until I caught sight of Edward in the bar, walking purposefully toward us with Jasper close on his heels. I stepped out from under the drape of Jake's arm as if shaking a yoke off my back, astounded at how quickly I wanted to be free of him when Edward's eagle eyes were on me. I realized that if the two men's positions had been reversed, I would have pulled Edward's arm more tightly around me rather than bolt from his side.

Edward introduced us to Jasper, who quickly got into a discussion with Paul about his guitar rig. That left me standing awkwardly between Jake and Edward, wondering how in the hell to make polite conversation. I shouldn't have worried, because Jake's excited yammering filled the spaces easily as he complained again about my failure to give him ample warning that my boss was coming tonight. Edward backed me up completely, repeating my sentiments about catching musicians spontaneously when they didn't know they were being judged. _As if I need any more encouragement to fall for this guy completely_, I thought.

I agreed with him, telling Jake it was time to stop over-thinking everything and just let go. I couldn't take my eyes off of Edward as I said it. I was sure he caught my meaning, because he ran off to the bar like a scared rabbit immediately afterward. I hated that my insecurity began to rear its ugly head. Did he avoid getting closer to me because he wanted it too much, or not enough? What if Alice was wrong?

No, she couldn't be. I was reassured when Edward sat down next to me before the band started. I was positive I wasn't imagining the feel of his eyes on me during the show, though I couldn't be sure he was staring without getting caught doing the same. It was impossible for me to steal a look at him, since I had to turn away from the band to do it. But he was so beautiful in the rainbow of kaleidoscopic stage lights that I couldn't look away once I'd glanced back at his perfect face. His eyes met mine, and the swirl of emotions I saw there drew me in and held me as they always did. His lips parted and he drifted toward me… so close, so ready for a kiss. My heart pounded as his breath cooled my face, a heady mixture of Edward and alcohol that I was desperate to taste.

That was precisely the moment that the band decided to end their set, prompting Rosalie to grab my arm and "talk shop" for the next five minutes. Pulling away from Edward was physically painful, and again I had to put every ounce of concentration I had into behaving normally with Rose. (Speaking of whom, the story of Rosalie and Emmett deserves its own entry. I don't know whether to laugh or cringe about the incidents that entangled my boss and my chiropractor last night. I think I'll wait to weigh in on the matter after I see her tomorrow.)

Alice put in a plug for Jasper before Rose left the bar, mentioning that he'd be performing with a "friend" later in the week. She wisely left Edward's name out of any discussion with Rosalie, but I couldn't stop myself from letting him know that I had his back, too. I mustered a little bravery, fueled by beer, and pressed my thigh firmly against his under the table.

He didn't touch me in return, but he didn't move his leg away, either. I assured Jasper that I would record him for Rosalie, and I pushed my leg harder against Edward's as I added that I was looking forward to seeing both of them perform again. The knuckles on the back of Edward's hand whitened as he gripped his beer mug more tightly, and I fought to hide my satisfied grin. Alice was right. I'd have to be patient, but I decided I would crack his façade, one way or another.

Even though I was sincere in my offer to help Jasper, I was ready to yank some strings off of any nearby guitar and strangle him with them when he asked Edward to take him home early. It seems like every time we might make some progress, or at least have a little time to talk one-on-one, something or someone gets in our way.

The squeeze Edward gave my shoulder felt much more meaningful than it should have, and I began to fear that I was reading too much into a commonplace gesture once again. I wanted to pick Alice's brain about it after Edward and Jasper left, but when Emmett returned to the table, she became oddly mum about the subject of her brother. After a moment's thought, I realized that Edward's no-dating policy with patients is probably standard industry practice, and that Emmett wouldn't look favorably upon that kind of behavior any more than Edward does. It's probably part of the Hippocratic oath or something. And even though Edward isn't technically a doctor, it obviously doesn't keep him from behaving as if he is. That's just Edward. And ironically, that integrity is one of his most attractive qualities, even though it keeps getting in our way.

Alice and Emmett kept me company while the band dismantled their set and hauled it into Sam's rusted Chevy van. I keep hoping I'll see the day when they don't have to drive beater cars and drag their own gear to gigs around the city. I'd love nothing more than to see The Wolf Pack make it big, or at least be successful enough to live comfortably and realize their dreams.

Jake talked a mile a minute on the drive back to my place, still amped from the show. I assured him that Rosalie had been as impressed as she seemed, and that we would probably contact the band soon about meeting with the higher-ups. He bounded up the steps two at a time to the landing outside my front door, laughing at me as I ran to catch up with him.

"I can hardly believe it, Bells," Jake said, shaking his head at his good fortune as I got to the top of the stairs. "Things are finally starting to happen for us. And who'd have 'thunk' it would be because of you?"

He suddenly grabbed my chin in his hand, and my stomach twisted nervously. Oh, no. He wasn't really going to try to kiss me, was he?

I shook my own head, trying to dislodge it from his thumb and forefinger. "It's not because of me. It's because of your years of practice and hard work. I'm just the middle man," I insisted, looking down. I couldn't bring myself to meet his dark, deep-set gaze.

"We make a good team," he replied. That was not what I wanted to hear. That "we" sounded a little too couple-y for my liking.

"Sure," I agreed weakly, still ineffectually trying to disengage my face from his hand. Apparently that simple word was all the encouragement he needed, for his face loomed closer, his lips taking deadly aim at mine.

I instantly twisted my face to the side so that his kiss landed harmlessly somewhere between my cheek and jaw. He let me go then, stepping back slowly and giving me a perplexed look.

"I'm sorry, Jake. It's nothing personal. We just really need to keep things professional between us, especially now," I rattled nervously, trying to erase the troubled expression from his face. "If we're going to be working together - and I think we will - then we need to keep things a little more objective, know what I mean?" I bit my lip and looked up at him dubiously to see if he bought it.

The muscles of his face relaxed a bit, and a resigned, mirthless grin tugged momentarily at his lips.

"Sure, Bells," he said quietly. "I don't want to do anything to mess up our relationship. We are still friends, right?"

"Of course we are," I insisted with a relieved sigh. "I just think that we need to be careful to keep it that way. Business and pleasure usually don't mix very well, you know? It's just better to keep things platonic."

"You're right," he agreed, though he still looked unconvinced. "That doesn't mean you won't still hang out with me sometimes though, does it?"

"Of course not. You know I will."

He nodded and reached out to briefly stroke the side of my face. "Thanks again for everything, Bella. I'll talk to you soon," he said as he turned and descended the stairs from our landing.

I stood looking after him a moment, the irony of my situation dragging my sinking heart with it as it settled ruthlessly through my body. No matter how I try to ignore it, that tiny sliver of self-doubt keeps taunting me with the same nagging question.

What if this is how Edward's been feeling about me all along?


	11. Resolve, part 2

**This update is a little later than I thought it would be, but in a case of life imitating art, I threw my back out most severely and was unable to do much of anything the past few days. Today I was a bit better and was able to finish this chapter, which turned out longer than I expected. It's always interesting when the characters start speaking and say things you didn't expect. **

**As always, I own nothing. Thanks to S. Meier for creating the characters I love to play with. And thanks to everyone reading for your patience and support. Your feedback means the world to me.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Thursday, August 5**

Holy crow, Mom, he finally did it.

Edward Cullen asked me out.

On a date.

Kind of. Sort of. In my mind, it's a date. It's going to end up like a date, if I don't cop out and let my insecurity get the better of me. And at this point, I'm pretty certain sheer frustration is going to win out over fear of rejection.

I'm still shaking, practically pinching myself to make sure I heard him right. But he absolutely, definitely committed to take me hiking on Saturday after our appointment.

Okay, so it's really an exercise outing more than anything. That's the excuse he used, anyway, to make it seem like he's doing this for my health instead of trying to get in a little one-on-one time with me. But I'm pretty sure that he's getting as frustrated as I am about our situation. We never seem to get the chance to get to know each other better without some outside force intervening.

I spent most of the week second-guessing myself, as is my bad habit, especially where Edward is concerned. Even Rosalie's comments didn't quite do the job of boosting my confidence, and I usually believe what she tells me, because she's as observant as they come.

I was afraid to broach the subject of the Cullens with her after her reaction to Emmett bumping into her precious baby, her BMW convertible, with his Range Rover last weekend. I was more surprised than anyone when she agreed to go out with him. I mean, I know the guy is handsome and charming, but Rose is no pushover. She's a bit of a man-eater, actually.

But when I walked into her office yesterday morning, I discovered that Emmett Cullen possessed a previously unknown talent: lion taming. Or lioness taming, in this case.

The phone was glued to her ear when I knocked, but she motioned for me to enter. She had called me into her office only a moment ago, yet still managed to be on the phone by the time I finished a quick data entry and leapt to my feet.

"About our dinner this Saturday," she was beginning, swiveling her chair from side to side, her lips pursed in a knowing grin. "I've had a slight change of plans. How flexible are you?"

She quirked an eyebrow at me as her grin spread, and I knew this was a test. Not for me, but for unsuspecting Emmett.

"I knew you'd make a predictably sleazy comment in response to that question. I'll ignore that and put it another way: Can we have dinner a little earlier than planned? As it turns out, I have to work later Saturday evening." She paused briefly to listen. "Around six p.m. would work for me. I have to be at the Rusty Nail before nine. A couple of V.P.s will be checking out that band we saw last weekend and I need to be there. You're welcome to come along with, if you promise to behave."

A wicked smile spread across Rose's face as she listened to Emmett's reply. I was certain he had something colorful to say regarding her last request.

On my end, I was pretty stoked. This meant that The Wolf Pack was very nearly "in" with our company. I was sure I'd have to be in attendance as well, and I was more than happy to make space in my then-empty calendar.

"You really are a vile beast. You know that, don't you? I have no idea why I agreed to go out with you." Her Cheshire grin belied her true feelings, however. She shook with silent laughter as she listened to Emmett's no doubt innuendo-ridden response.

"You have a vivid imagination, Mr. Cullen," she told him haughtily. "And very unrealistic expectations. But you're welcome to keep hope alive as long as I get a nice dinner out of the deal." She gave me a wink as she continued to stifle her giggles while he spoke.

"Promise, promises," she told him with an exaggerated sigh. "Just pick me up early, and if you're lucky, I'll let you give me a chaste peck on the cheek at the end of the evening." She nearly choked with muffled laughter at whatever he said then. "I look forward to seeing you try," she concluded, hanging up the phone quickly and exploding into peals of laughter.

"What a jackass," she grinned as she shook her head. "What a conceited buffoon."

I let out a slightly confused chuckle. Her words didn't match her demeanor at all. She was practically purring with contentment, like a cat luxuriating in the sun.

"Oh, Bella. Why didn't you tell me your chiropractor was so fucking hot? I would have faked a back injury weeks ago to get next to that guy," she sighed, stretching exultantly in her chair.

"Okay, color me confused. You actually like him?" I asked uncertainly.

"Are you kidding? He's bold and brash and gets straight to the point. He's the complete opposite of these namby-pamby, super-sensitive musician types we have to deal with all day long. He's bordering on obnoxious, with those cheesy come-ons and that arrogant, smug self-confidence. I can't decide whether I want to smack him or screw his brains out. Probably both. I'll bet he'd like that." She frowned and chewed on her pen a moment. "I have no idea how I'm going to keep from sleeping with him on the first date. But he loves the chase way too much for me to give in so easily."

A shocked laugh escaped my mouth at her words. She'd never really articulated what she liked in a man before, that I could remember. She usually kept things pretty business-like between us. She had been loosening up around me a bit lately, but talking with me so frankly about men was a new one.

"Well, if I'd known Emmett was your dream man, I would have figured out a way to introduce you before," I laughed.

"'Dream man?' I don't know if I'd go that far. But that guy pushes my buttons, in a really aggravatingly good way, know what I mean?"

I nodded. "I think I do."

"His brother does the same thing to you, am I right? Edward?" she queried, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Is it that obvious?" I sighed. Hadn't I already had this conversation with Alice?

"Yeah. The googly eyes between you two is hard to miss. It was fun watching you pretend that you weren't completely distracted by each other, though. Very cute. Reminded me of high school."

"Oh, God," I moaned, covering my eyes briefly with my hand. "You and Emmett are no better, you know, slinging insults back and forth like kids on a playground."

"Yeah, but we're both in on the game," she argued. "I'm not so sure about you and Edward. You seem to have some issues to work out there. Like you don't really know where you stand with each other."

I stared at her in disbelief. "You could tell all of that from the other night? How?"

She smiled somewhat patronizingly at me. "Honey, I can smell insecurity from a mile away. It's what keeps a lot of the good musicians I hear from achieving greatness.

"Now, I know Edward is gorgeous, in that brooding, poetic sort of way that so many girls swoon over. But you've got to quit being intimidated by that and look at the real guy in there. Any self-confidence he has is like an empty suit of armor. There's nothing to back it up," she asserted, shaking her head. "There's fear in his eyes, Bella. I don't know why, but that's what I see when I look at him. One of you is going to have to get brave if you want that relationship to go anywhere."

A wan smile flitted across my lips. "Well, it'll have to be me, then. Edward has a policy of not dating his patients. Clients," I corrected myself.

"Ah. Well, can't say I blame him," Rose shrugged. "Still, there are plenty of ways to get around that. He can always refer you to another therapist."

"I know. But he said once that it's more effective working with Emmett as a team to make me better. I don't really want to go to anyone else," I admitted. The thought of a stranger touching me the way Edward did made me squirm uncomfortably.

"Well, you could always work out a barter system so that you're not technically his patient anymore. Massage therapy in exchange for other, uh, _services_ that you could provide for him on an ad-hoc basis," she joked.

"Great," I groaned. "I suppose that would solve the problem that I feel completely sleazy handing him a check after what he does to me. Instead of paying him, I'll just do something sleazy to him in return," I joked. The truth of the matter was, the way Edward treated me was anything but sleazy. I always felt a certain respect, even reverence, in the careful way he conducted our sessions.

"You know you want to!" Rose exclaimed. She dissolved into another fit of giggles, and I had to join in. She definitely had a knack for making me stop taking things so seriously.

From that standpoint, I realized that she and Emmett were a good fit. I always felt completely at ease whenever I saw his mischievous blue eyes and warm smile in greeting at our appointments. As I left early yesterday afternoon for my next session with him, Rose called after me, "Make sure you tell him I said 'hello!'"

When I relayed the message to Emmett, he got the same self-satisfied expression on his face that Rose had been sporting after their phone call that afternoon.

"Tell your boss I'll say 'hello' to her in person when I pick her up in-" he glanced at the clock, "-exactly seventy-two hours, and she'd better be on time since she moved our date up," he replied with a grin as he ushered me to the chiropractic table.

I laughed as I stepped onto the metal foot plate. "She'll be impressed that you're counting the hours."

"A woman like that deserves special attention," he said. I thought I detected a smidgen of good-humored sarcasm in his voice. "I'm sure she'd agree."

"That she would," I mumbled through the narrow partition as the table lowered me face-down to a horizontal position.

Emmett let out a hearty laugh. "She's a pistol, isn't she?" His tone was that of admiration. "My weapon of choice."

"She knows what she wants," I answered, my voice muffled. He pulled my feet together to check my leg length, then moved up to my lower back and skewered those blasted pressure points again with his killer thumbs.

"And I'm sure she gets it," he replied, his tone still amused. "That's fine. I know how to get what I want, too."

He sounded so matter-of-fact in his assertion that I had no reply. I only wished that I was as good at this whole flirtation game as he and Rose seemed to be. Those two would probably get engaged and married before Edward and I even held hands.

Emmett adjusted my hips, then moved up to my shoulders and neck. He told me I had a rib out again below my shoulder. I let out a resigned sigh, figuring it was from being at the computer all the time. Between work and writing to you, I know I sit typing too much. But I don't see how I can stop doing either of those things. I can only hope that my physical therapy will cure the side effects of my mental therapy.

After finishing with my back, Emmett had me turn over and then he worked on my left hip joint in the same spot Edward did the other day. But of course with Emmett I was fully clothed, and he pressed much harder and more painfully on the pressure points in question than Edward ever did. He adjusted the hip bone as well, the table beneath me making its usual sharp grates of protest as it gave way under the quick, forceful movements of Emmett's hands. He also checked my ribs in the front because I had so many problems with them in the back, and as it turned out, the cartilage was stiff and unyielding on one side. He pressed his fingers firmly beneath the edge of my rib cage as I winced from the discomfort. None of what he did was fun. But it was blessedly brief, and he pronounced me "greatly improved" from the first time he worked on me, so it was worth it.

"You're doing great, Bella," he smiled as he made notes on my chart. "Walk around a little and tell me how you feel."

I did as he ordered and admitted that I felt good. Nothing was pulling or pinching or otherwise making me worry that I could do something stupid and have my back give out on me.

"That's what I like to hear," he answered. "I'm making a note for Edward to work on your rib cage during your next appointment. I tried to loosen up some of that cartilage that's bound up in there, but I want him to really get in there and do some more muscle work."

"Hmm," I nodded weakly. So Edward's hands would be mere inches from my breasts for a good chunk of our next session. Holy hell. I practically climaxed when his hands were on my thighs last week. And after he left, I actually did. How would I get through this without just grabbing him and tearing his clothes off? Starting with that stupid lab coat. But I'd let him leave on the glasses. Those were sexy. And he obviously needed them to see what he was doing up close and personal….

"Earth to Bella!" Emmett's amused voice interrupted my train of thought.

"Sorry," I apologized, blushing furiously. "What were you saying?"

"I asked how your sessions with Edward are going," he repeated, his eyes questioning mine.

"Oh. Um, great. Really well. I definitely feel the changes in my muscles afterward," I told him. That was true. I often felt more soreness after the myotherapy appointments than the chiropractic ones.

"That's good," Emmett smiled. "I can tell the difference already when I examine you, but I was just wondering if you felt any different."

_Oh, I feel different, all right. I feel a whole lot of things that I've never felt before._

I cleared my throat, and my head. "I definitely think you and Edward are both helping me a lot. He always says that the two of you work really well together as a team."

Emmett let out a surprised snort. "Did he? Well, I suppose that's true." He shook his head, still smiling, as he finished up his notes in my file. My eyes narrowed as I tried to discern his meaning.

"Was that not always the case?" I questioned him.

"Hmm? Oh, we work together just fine. That's never been an issue. I'm just surprised that things turned out the way they did, that's all. If anything, I figured I'd be working for him someday rather than the other way around." His eyes were on his paperwork as he spoke, like he was concentrating diligently on my prognosis or something.

"Why do you say that?" I continued, my curiosity burning like wildfire. "Had he planned to be a chiropractor, too?"

"Ha! No. He was pre-med at U-Dub. If he'd gone on to med school, I'm guessing he would have ended up as a surgeon of some kind. With his grades and those nimble fingers, I'm pretty sure he could have gone into whatever medical field he chose."

My eyes fell from Emmett's into the unfocused space between us as the weight of his words sank in. I knew Edward was smart. I wasn't surprised to hear that he had done well in school. But I was more than a little surprised to learn that his life had dramatically veered off course somewhere along the line. Not that there was anything wrong with the field of massage therapy; far from it. He was excellent at what he did, and I was living proof. But what could have caused a guy with a promising future as a surgeon to suddenly switch to a career that required comparatively little training and education? As far as I knew, a massage therapy license could be obtained in less than two years. If Edward had decided to become a doctor, he'd still be in grad school right now.

"What happened?" My words came out hushed, confused. When my eyes raised to Emmett's, he looked away a bit sheepishly, as if he had said too much.

"Life happened," he said quietly. "Sometimes it throws you a curve or two. Takes you in a different direction."

Alice's words echoed in my head… her warnings about the "painful events" Edward had been through. As I looked at the firm set of Emmett's mouth, I knew I would get no more information on the subject from him.

I would have to get the truth from Edward himself.

"Do you think he's happy being a massage therapist?" I asked tentatively, taking a different tack.

Emmett looked a little startled at the question. "Well…yeah. I think he enjoys what he does, maybe more than he thought he would. He seems to have a little more bounce in his step lately. Maybe you have something to do with that. He likes being able to help people." He gave me a wink, leaving me to wonder if he knew more than he let on about Edward's feelings for me, and vice versa.

"Well, he's good at what he does. He's really helped me. You both have."

Emmett looked pleased. "Thanks. I'll pass it along. Or maybe I'll let you tell Edward that yourself."

"I already have, but I don't mind repeating it," I told him with a smile as I picked up my purse to leave.

Edward, a doctor. A surgeon, even. I couldn't get the idea out of my head after once the seed was planted. He would definitely give "McDreamy" a run for his money in that department. What could have disrupted his plans so thoroughly?

I couldn't stop wondering, and suspecting the worst. You and I both know exactly the kinds of things that can happen to turn your world upside down in an instant. I just hope that Edward didn't have to suffer something like that. But if he had, it would explain a lot.

His songs at the Java Shack tonight smacked again of pain, the ghost of his gut-wrenching set at Billy's still haunting his performance. He and Jasper did an homage to one of my favorite bands, Foo Fighters, to the delight of the Seattle crowd. But I still couldn't manage to get Edward to let me in enough to understand where the pain is coming from.

Today had a promising start when Alice called me at work to inform me that Jasper had offered to give us all a ride downtown tonight. I could almost imagine the four of us hanging out together as a double-date. My wishful thinking seemed justified when I heard the vehicle pull up outside my house this evening, then looked out the window just in time to see Edward jump out and nimbly climb the steps to my front landing. My heart was pounding when I opened the door to the sight of his glorious face.

"Hey," he said in surprise, his finger still raised to the doorbell.

"Hi, Edward," I smiled. "Just let me grab my purse and I'll be right out." I quickly scooped up my keys, threw them in my bag and checked my face quickly in the mirror. I had put on a little more eye make-up than usual, but it was the happy glow in my cheeks that made the difference in how I looked this evening.

"You could have just honked the horn," I told him as I slammed the door behind us and checked to make sure the latch was in place.

"No, I couldn't," he answered smoothly. "My mother raised me better than that."

I looked up to see giving me that delicious lopsided smile as he put his hand on the small of my back to guide me downstairs. "Ladies first," he insisted.

"Such a gentleman," I teased as we descended the steps to the street where Jasper's Charger idled.

"Sorry if I offend your feminism," Edward grinned, opening the car door for me. "Maybe I should let a girl wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt fend for herself."

"No way," I replied as I settled in the back seat behind Alice. "I like a guy with good manners."

Edward was still smiling as he walked around the car, then climbed in next to me.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice exclaimed from the front passenger seat. "Have you been to this place before?"

"A couple of times," I answered. "I didn't realize they did open mic nights regularly. I'll have to add it to my list." I looked at Edward, and he was still giving me that crooked grin that did such fitful things to my insides.

"I think you'll like it," he said. "It's one of my old hang-outs. It used to be just a coffee house, but the owner got interested in making micro-brews and decided to turn the place into a lounge at night. It's been hopping lately."

"That's because word about the talent is getting around," Alice interjected, glancing back at us and then settling her gaze on our driver. "It's also where I first met Jasper, so it has a special place in my heart."

Jasper raised an eyebrow at her and let out a short laugh. "It's a very auspicious place, obviously."

"Then we ought to have a good time," I said, my eyes drifting to Edward. He was still looking at me, and his gaze still sent waves of goose bumps rippling over my skin. I already knew that the best thing about the Java Shack would be that Edward was in it.

As soon as I walked in the door, I wondered why I hadn't hung out there more often. The mood was laid back and the décor eclectic, from ordinary bar furniture to modern chairs and overstuffed couches in cozy arrangements throughout the establishment. It definitely had more of a coffee house vibe than that of an ordinary bar.

We had arrived fairly early and one of the sofas was still available. "Shall we?" Edward suggested, his hand brushing the small of my back again. I found it amazing that even though I'd had his hands all over me, this slightest of intimate touches still felt like something significant.

"So, you said you used to hang out here a lot," I commented as I sat down at one end of the deep gold couch. "Were you in school then?"

His eyes were wary as he seated himself next to me. "Yeah, I was."

Undeterred by his reticence, I pressed further. "You mean massage therapy school?"

"No, I did some undergrad work at U-Dub," he admitted.

Jasper and Alice asked what we wanted to drink, and then left for the bar. I refused to let Edward off the hook, especially now that we were alone.

"You went to U-Dub? What did you study?"

He shifted uncomfortably and raked his fingers through his hair. "Lots of things. Science, chemistry, math. The usual guy stuff." He shrugged, then made a face. "Sorry, that came out sexist-sounding. Or stereotypical, anyway."

"No worries," I reassured him. "There's usually a reason stereotypes exist. I guess I fit them, too, because I studied music, English and art in college. I took business classes, too, but only because I couldn't get out of them," I finished with a laugh.

"Was that so you could work in the recording industry?"

"Yeah. It's all I've ever wanted to do. When I was eleven I used to stand in front of the mirror and sing into my hair brush. I wanted to be Sheryl Crow, or Shirley Mansen of Garbage, so bad," I laughed.

"Do you have video of these hair brush performances? 'Cause I'd love to see them," Edward teased good-naturedly, nudging my arm gently with his elbow. The hairs on my arm stood at attention.

"Did you ever take any music lessons?" he continued. "You know, so you could actually become a rock star instead of just dreaming about it."

The nerve he inadvertently hit vibrated painfully inside me. I could see your disappointed face in my mind as the lie slipped out. "No, I just took music theory and appreciation classes. I'm way too shy to get up onstage and do what you do. I prefer to stay behind the scenes. Much safer. Much less terrifying."

"I'll bet you could do it," Edward said with confidence. "I'm pretty shy myself until I get onstage, and all of that disappears. I just get lost in the song and that's all I can see or hear or think about."

"I can tell. That's what makes you such a compelling performer," I told him.

Edward shook his head modestly. "If I can do it, anyone can do it, trust me. You'd be fine up there. You have a lot more strength than you give yourself credit for."

"You think so?" I replied dubiously.

He nodded sagely. "I know so."

"How can you know something like that?"

"Your body tells me so."

A whip-crack of pleasure ripped through my nervous system at his simple, but direct, reply.

"Would you care to explain that? It seems to me like my body's been betraying me for quite awhile now. I feel much weaker than the average 22-year-old."

"On the contrary," Edward argued. "Your body has been working overtime to keep you going despite everything you've been through. You're stronger than you know. You're a fighter."

I studied the seriousness in Edward's deep jade eyes, flecked with gold in the amber bar light. I looked at the mirror of myself in those eyes and asked, "What about you? Are you a fighter?"

Edward's face darkened, and the windows to his soul closed. "Sometimes," he finally said quietly. "The trick is to know what's worth fighting for. And even if you do, sometimes you still lose the battle."

Jasper and Alice returned with our drinks then, and Edward looked grateful for the diversion. I was disappointed to realize that not only had I not gotten any real answers from him, I'd also let him turn the conversation around so that I felt like the one who'd been put on the spot. Apparently sneakiness runs in the Cullen family.

Jasper and Edward began discussing their set, while Alice asked me when I was going to yoga class with her again. I was tempted to reply, "The twelfth of never," but I agreed to meet her on Saturday again after my appointment with Edward.

The guys were set to perform early, and Edward began to show visible signs of anxiety as the time drew near. I wanted to rub his shoulders to relax him, but I didn't dare make such a demonstration in public. It didn't seem fair that he'd had his hands on nearly every part of my body, yet I couldn't muster the courage to so much as touch him directly, let alone rub him down.

I settled for leaning against him, the left side of my body flush with his right, the skin of his tricep hot against mine. I looked up at him and said simply, "Don't be nervous. You'll be great."

The smile that spread across his face was reward enough, though he added a verbal "thanks" as he rose from the couch and grabbed his guitar case. He and Jasper disappeared to a small side-stage area to warm up, leaving Alice and I to make small talk. She was thrilled to inform me that Jasper had finally asked her out on what she called "a proper date," which would include dinner and an art exhibit on Saturday night. She was understandably excited, since she had made her interest in him clear since the night she met him, or so she said. It seemed like everyone was pairing up all of a sudden-Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and Alice. Was it just wishful thinking to hope Edward and I could be next? I'm used to being the third wheel around Angela and Ben, but it's getting old.

Edward and Jasper settled in on bar stools and did a quick tuning check on their guitars before beginning their set. I surreptitiously took out my digital recorder and set it between my purse and the arm of the sofa, glancing at Alice to make sure she hadn't seen. She appeared to be too absorbed in watching Jasper onstage to notice what I was doing.

Edward and Jasper each took turns singing lead, Jasper opening with the lazy, rollicking "Summer's End," with Edward backing him during the choruses. Edward followed with the stark and haunting "Razor." His finger-picking on guitar was nimble and seemingly effortless. I couldn't help but picture those skilled fingers artfully suturing a patient with stitches so tiny that the scar would be nearly invisible to the naked eye. But was that any more important than the more subtle healing he performed as a therapist, or the emotional healing his singing provided? I didn't think so. But as long as he relegated himself to amateur status as a musician, only a select few would be able to benefit from the latter.

As I listened to Edward's raw-sounding voice, I shuddered to think what the words of this song might mean to him.

_Sweet and divine_  
_Razor of mine_  
_Sweet and divine_  
_Razorblade shine_

_Patience my dear_  
_We could spend a lifetime waiting here_  
_Maybe this time_  
_I hope I get the chance to say goodbye_

After he finished to loud applause, he and Jasper launched into a trio of songs, "Stranger Things Have Happened," "Resolve" and "Times Like These." They took turns singing the verses and improvised gorgeous harmonies on the choruses. Bits of the lyrics swirled in my head, demanding that I assign meaning to them and form a message from Edward to me, even if it wasn't solely about me.

_Oh maybe maybe maybe_  
_I can share it with you_  
_I behave I behave I behave_  
_So I can share it with you_

_You were not alone_  
_Dear loneliness_  
_You forgot_  
_But I remembered this_  
_Oh stranger stranger_  
_Stranger things have happened, I know_

_A little bit of resolve is what I need now_  
_Pin me down, show me how_  
_A little bit of resolve is what I need now_  
_Pin me down, show me how_

_One more year that you're not here has gone and passed you by_  
_What happened to you, what happened to you?_

_I'm a little divided_  
_do I stay or run away and leave it all behind_

_it's times like these you learn to live again_  
_it's times like these you give and give again_  
_it's times like these you learn to love again_  
_it's times like these time and time again_

When they were finished, the audience erupted into loud applause and shouts of approval, none louder than Alice next to me. My head was spinning, heart swimming with emotion. Clapping seemed like a lame acknowledgement for such an affecting performance, but I joined the rest of the bar, wiping a quick tear from my cheek. I'm still the biggest wimp on the planet, Mom, as you can plainly see.

I quickly put my recorder in my purse as Edward and Jasper bowed and nodded to the crowd and headed back to the gold sofa. Edward knew that I intended to record Jasper for Rose sometime, but we hadn't discussed him being part of the deal. I was afraid to ask his permission. If he said, "no," I would hate myself for every recording I've made of him. And I know there's no way I can keep myself from recording him in the future, simply for my own selfish reasons. I listen to him every day. His voice is becoming as essential to me as oxygen.

Alice practically ran to Jasper as he strode toward us, throwing her arms around him and giving him effusive compliments. I wished I was even half as brazen as she was. Instead, I stood awkwardly waiting for Edward as he approached.

"You were amazing," I said, feeling that my words fell as far short as my applause. "And you did one of my favorite bands justice, which is a bonus."

"Thanks. If we had screwed up a hometown favorite like that, I think we would have been dodging tomatoes," he said with a wry laugh. He leaned past me and grabbed his guitar case, opening it on the couch and putting his Gibson away.

"That's a beautiful instrument," I commented as he snapped the lid closed. "What year is it?"

Edward looked up at me in surprise. "A 1974 Dove flattop. Not everyone likes the flattop design, but the sound is so amazing that I had to have it he minute I heard it. Do you want to take a look?"

"No, that's fine," I said, waving a hand to stop him from undoing the snaps on the case. "I don't really play or anything. I just appreciate a nice guitar when I hear it."

Edward eyed me with suspicion. "A girl who knows guitars. Nice. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though, considering your line of work."

"I have been exposed to some fine instruments," I agreed. _Why does that sound dirty? _I wondered as the words left my mouth.

Edward's raised eyebrow and slight smirk made it feel even dirtier.

"All right," Alice's soprano rang out, getting our collective attention. "Who's up for a game of quarters?"

She was met with simultaneous groans of protest.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Like reliving freshman year in the dorms. What do you say?"

"Fine," Jasper sighed. "But I get to drink Cokes because I'm the designated driver. Somebody has to drive you drunken fools home."

"Watch who you're calling a drunk," Edward joked. "Don't make me tell Isabella about your behavior at Irina Denali's wedding reception."

Alice's eyes grew big as saucers. "Tell me! Tell me!" she demanded.

"There's not that much to tell," Jasper claimed with an embarrassed grin.

"That's just because he doesn't remember most of the evening," Edward laughed.

"Long story short, I ended up nearly drowning myself in the wishing pool at the Plaza because someone dared me to count the pennies at the bottom. I remember that part distinctly. I just don't remember exactly how I got there, or how I got out," Jasper admitted sheepishly.

"Correction. He fell in the pool because he was doing the chicken dance on the edge and lost his balance," Edward said with a snort. "Emmett and I fished him out before we had to perform any life-saving procedures on him."

We all had a good laugh as we set up the table for quarters, then swapped stories about the weddings we'd either been in or attended. Alice made me laugh so hard at her description of a particularly hideous bridesmaid's dress she'd been forced to wear that I nearly choked on my beer. I think Edward was ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver on me until I finally caught my breath and my lungs began to calm down.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, rubbing my back as my breathing struggled to return to normal.

I nodded vigorously, afraid to try to speak. He kept rubbing my back softly, almost absent-mindedly, and it felt so good that I considered drawing out my coughing a little longer. Alice apologized and then blamed the bride in question for choosing a style so dreadful that the only sensible reaction was hysteria.

"Don't make me laugh again or I'll dump this entire beer on your head," I warned her, only half kidding.

"Come on, Bella. Didn't you ever have to wear a crappy bridesmaid dress? Or a sweet sixteen, or some other ruffled nightmare?" she laughed.

"Nope. The only wedding I was ever in was when my mom re-married about ten years ago. We picked out my dress together. It was very simple and pretty… appropriate for a twelve-year-old," I smiled.

"I think that's an excellent idea, having your bridesmaids wear what they like. You know, pick the wedding color you want and then let the bridesmaids choose any dress style they like as long as it's in that color. That way the dresses are flattering on everyone but your wedding color scheme is still intact," Alice declared.

"It sounds like you've given this a great deal of thought, Alice," Edward intoned ominously, giving Jasper a warning look.

Jasper's eyes bugged in mock horror. "What are you looking at me for?"

Alice elbowed him in the ribs, making him yelp in protest.

"Guys never think about this stuff. We're lucky if they just show up for the ceremony. But girls always have a dream wedding of some kind." She turned to me. "What about you, Bella? What kind of wedding do you want?"

_The kind with a guy like Edward at the end of the aisle, _I wanted to say. "Actually, I haven't really thought about it that much. Something simple. Tasteful. Not too fussy or expensive. I think that kind of ruins the point. It's really only about the bride and groom and the vows they want to make to each other. Everything else is just… superfluous."

Alice gave me a blank look. "Superfluous? I think the word you were searching for is 'fun.' Weddings should be fun! I want mine to be a huge party where everyone dresses to the nines, gets drunk and has a great time. I want people to talk about it for years afterward."

"Like Grandpa Cullen's wake?" Edward suggested with a sly grin. Jasper began to chuckle.

"Yes, exactly! Only without the death and mourning part," Alice replied, undeterred.

"Well, that depends on how much the groom will be mourning the passing of his bachelorhood. If he gets all misty, you'll know the real reason why," Edward teased.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Do you hear this, Bella? Men are all the same. Run. Run away from this one, as fast as you can," she advised, using her other elbow as a weapon against Edward's rib cage.

"Maybe you should take a lesson from Ms. Swan. Her idea of a wedding sounds like something that wouldn't make a guy run screaming in the opposite direction."

Alice quirked an eyebrow at her brother, then at me. Edward avoided looking at me, which was just as well, since my cheeks had grown warm at his words.

"Interesting," she commented. "What do you think, Jasper? What kind of wedding would you want?"

Jasper's eyes bugged again. "I think that whatever my bride wanted would be fine by me," he said carefully.

"Good answer!" Alice exclaimed, reaching over and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. I wondered how on earth she managed to get away with such familiar behavior when she and Jasper hadn't even had a real date yet, according to her. I'd had as much beer as she had, and I still would have balked at doing something like that with Edward.

We decided to call it an evening after our pitcher was empty. Everyone but Jasper was a bit inebriated, and I almost felt like I might fall asleep during the ride home. I imagined laying my head on Edward's shoulder and closing my eyes, while he wrapped his arm around me to pull me closer.

Something in my expression must have given me away, because I heard Edward's voice piercing my daydream.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.

I was just drunk enough to speak the truth. "You."

His eyes were hypnotic, impossible to ignore. His lips parted as if he was about to speak; then he pressed them firmly together for a moment, his eyebrows knitting.

"You shouldn't be thinking about me," he finally said.

I didn't give a damn about "should" or "shouldn't" anymore.

"I can't help it," I told him.

His troubled eyes pierced mine for several more agonizing moments before he said, "Neither can I."

His hand found mine on the car seat between us and he closed his fingers over mine. My heart increased its pace as I turned my hand, palm up, so that he could hold it properly. His fingers lacing through mine felt like electrical wires, connecting us in a current so strong that I could feel the voltage surging through every cell of my body.

I glanced at his face; he was studying our hands, joined as one. His thumb stroked the fleshy base of my mine, slowly, deliberately. My breath quickened and I felt like that twelve-year-old girl at your wedding reception, right before the little brother of one of the ushers gave me my first kiss as we hid behind a potted palm. I probably never told you about that. But that was the first time a boy had ever shown any interest in me, or wanted to kiss me. And now, with Edward Cullen holding my hand, I felt as many nervous butterflies as I did that day. I know how ridiculous that sounds now that I'm a grown woman, but it doesn't make it any less true.

He let go of my hand when we pulled up in front of my house, and my fingers were shocked at the loss. But as soon as we got out of the car, he caught up to me and I felt his hand on my back again, whisper-light, propelling me forward as he followed me up the stairs.

"Thanks for inviting me to come see you tonight," I told him when we got to the landing out side my door. "You really are one of my favorite singers, and I'm not just saying that. You…create magic onstage. You have a special gift."

"I'm glad you think so," he said, looking down and shaking his head a bit before his eyes captured mine again. "Your opinion means a lot to me. I think you're pretty special yourself."

My eyes were speaking, and I wondered if Edward could hear them.

_Kiss me._

"So, did you enjoy your yoga class last Saturday?" he asked abruptly.

Apparently my eyes weren't nearly loud and clear enough. "Sure. It was okay. I told Alice I would go with her again. I really am going to start doing it regularly, I promise."

Edward chuckled softly. "That's not what I was getting at, although I think it's a good idea for you to continue. But I was wondering if you'd be interested in trying a different kind of exercise."

My eyes flew open wide. Perhaps they were shouting a lot more loudly than I thought they were. "Such as…?"

"Hiking. It's supposed to be a nice day Saturday, and I thought maybe we could take a walk through the Seward Park trails. We could grab some sandwiches from the coffee shop and eat them in the park. If you'd like," he added at the end, suddenly looking a bit unsure of himself.

"Yeah, sure. I'd love that," I replied, a bit shell-shocked.

"Okay. Great. So…I guess I'll see you Saturday, then. Bring your hiking boots," he added with the crooked grin.

"Absolutely, I will," I agreed, even though I don't actually own any hiking boots, that I'm aware of. I also had plans to do the yoga thing with Alice, but I was sure she'd be more than happy to reschedule in light of this new development. I wondered if Edward had a tennis date with Kate that he'd have to cancel. My inner devil danced a little jig at the thought.

We stood smiling at each other and the awkward are-we-going-to-kiss-or-not conversation began to take place between our eyes again. I was pretty sure his were screaming the same thing as mine this time: _Kiss me. _

_Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me._

He reached out one of his beautiful hands toward my face, and I waited with bated breath for the sensation of his skin touching mine. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then trailed his fingers gently down my jaw. Disappointment washed over me as his hand dropped away and fell to his side.

But right before he turned to leave, he leaned in slightly and murmured something that was almost better than a kiss.

"Sweet dreams, Bella."

* * *

_All Foo Fighters lyrics property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended._

**By the way, the last half of this chapter was written while I was fully doped up on muscle relaxants. Hope it made sense. ;)**


	12. Rationale, part 1

**Do I really have to keep saying that Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight? And probably a good chunk of non-Twilight things as well?**

**Not surprisingly, this chapter is going to be a lot longer than I thought it would. Seems to be a pattern with me. Can I help it if Edward won't shut up? ;) **

**Anyway, I've decided to post it in two parts once again. The first one is finished. So without further ado...**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, August 7**

I think I've figured it out. I've replaced rational thinking with rationalizing instead.

That's how I've managed to convince myself that I didn't really push the boundaries of therapist/client relations by spending most of the day alone with Isabella Swan.

The rationalizations are plenty, and they come more and more easily. First of all, I haven't breached the American Massage Therapy Association Code of Ethics in any way. Nor have I violated Washington state sexual misconduct laws for massage therapists, since our walk through the park today was not technically a date, but rather a part of Ms. Swan's therapy, designed to build her strength and stamina. Likewise, seeing her Thursday night was business-related on her end, since she was listening to Jasper in order to report back to her boss. Nothing inappropriate has happened thus far, in the eyes of the law.

What a load.

Of course, I don't believe any of these flimsy excuses. I know full well what I'm doing, and what I want. I want to have my cake and eat it, too. It doesn't help matters when the cake seems so willing, even eager, to be eaten.

Yes, I know exactly how crude that sounds. And you know me well enough to know that my mind has already gone there a dozen times. It's only a matter of time before the rest of me follows.

The jig is pretty much up, anyway. I was so close to telling her the truth about you today that I nearly choked on the words. Finding out that Bella and I have the same coping mechanisms drew me closer to her than ever before, yet I couldn't seem to take that next step to let her in. I told myself that it wasn't the right time; that I didn't want to lessen the weight of her confessions by throwing my own into the mix.

The rationalizations of a coward.

At least I should 'fess up to you, Tanya. I don't know why I use the pretense of writing to you when I know you'll never read these words. I wouldn't want you to. I'd never hurt you like that. I caused enough irreparable damage as it is. It's time to drop the ruse and just admit that I'm only writing to myself-empty, hollow musings that give me the illusion that I'll somehow come to grips with everything if I work it out on paper. At least Bella's letters are written out of love. Mine are born of guilt and regret.

I didn't plan to call her "Bella." I was afraid to say it out loud. In my mind, I had finally allowed myself to think it, but it was attached to a modifier I could not seem to expel: _my_ Bella. I've never felt such a need to possess someone before. Not in greed, as though I would let no one else near her; but in reverence, placing no one else above her. Letting her possess me in return is what's difficult. Part of me is resisting with every fiber of my being-the part that is afraid I can never measure up, never be worthy of being hers. The part that's afraid I can never love her the way she deserves. The part that wonders if I'm capable of loving anyone that way.

But the part of me that's still willing to throw caution to the wind called her by the nickname she prefers before I left her on her doorstep Thursday night. She couldn't possibly know what a concession that was-tantamount to my hoisting the white flag of surrender. Now I'm just biding my time before the next breeze catches it and it begins to unfurl.

Earlier in the week, I kept my time - and my mind - occupied by rehearsing with Jasper. I suggested that we play all of Thursday night's set together and just swap lead vocals on a few songs. I knew I would be nervous with Bella's eyes and ears on me, but I thought I'd breathe easier with Jazz there to back me up. He was probably aware of my motivations, but he refrained from comment. We managed to cover pretty much any and every topic except our love lives. He probably had no more desire to discuss his feelings for my sister than I did mine for Bella. We deftly, blithely avoided the elephant in the room.

I was happy when he offered to drive us all to the Java House the night of our set. It made the occasion feel a little like a double-date even though it technically wasn't-another rationalization. I was becoming adept at creating them by then. I had one for nearly every time I touched Bella that night: I was just being polite; I was just helping her when she choked on her beer; I was just brushing that perpetually defiant lock of hair out of her face. But I could come up with none for the deliberate way I held her hand in the car. I simply couldn't stop myself. We had both admitted that we couldn't help thinking about one another. I had to touch her then; to put substance behind the words. Her fingers between mine were small but strong. She turned her hand and offered it to me, palm up, and I knew that was her moment of surrender. My own was inevitable, and yet that obstinate part of me still held its ground. It wouldn't let me kiss her good night, no matter how badly we both wanted it.

Bella was my last client this morning. I always schedule her last. It's becoming a regular appointment now, understood by us both: Saturday morning, 10 a.m. I see her last so that I am preoccupied with other customers before she arrives, and so that I have time to recover from seeing her afterward. Last week that entailed relieving my hard-on in the bathroom, a low moment that I had no wish to relive this time around. Today I would have to learn to tame the beast like the adult I supposedly am, since we wouldn't be parting ways afterward. She would be spending the day with me instead.

I could think of nothing else from the time I asked her out until this morning. I'm pretty sure I've never looked forward to a simple walk in the park so much before. I had no intention of using the paved path that circles Seward Park; I was much more interested in taking the dirt trails that meander through the woods at its center. It would allow us more privacy so that we could talk. I decided it was imperative that I get to know her better, because my preoccupation with her was bordering on the ridiculous. It was high time for me to decide which part of me was going to win this internal tug of war over my feelings for her. To put it more bluntly, it was time to shit or get off the pot.

I was staring at Emmett's notations on her chart with a sinking feeling when she arrived. I had planned to have her lie on her stomach this time and do some basic Swedish massage, giving her a break from some of the more intense myofascial work. But Emmett wanted me to work on her ribs and possibly perform a psoas release, if needed. That required her to be on her back, which now meant I would be distracted by her lovely face, not to mention the outline of her nipples under the thin flannel sheet.

I began to wonder if it wouldn't be better to refer her to Katrina after all.

"Hi, Edward," her warm alto met my ears. I looked up to see her staring up at me uncertainly, her bottom lip caught under her teeth until a smile tugged it free.

"Bella," I said, the word sounding like a whispered prayer. I cleared my throat and asked, "How are you doing?"

"Really good," she said emphatically. She pointed down at her feet and added, "I don't have hiking boots, but I think these will do for a walk in the park, right?"

I peered over the countertop down at her shoes, a rather rugged-looking pair of leather sneakers. "Those should be fine," I told her. "When we tackle Mount Rainier one day, we'll get you some decent boots."

She let out an incredulous laugh. "In your dreams," she snorted. "You'll be lucky if I make it a few miles through the woods today."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm going to have to carry you back to the car this afternoon?" I meant it as a joke, but when our eyes met, they were dead serious for one heart-stopping moment.

Bella blushed and answered, "I'm pretty sure you won't have to resort to that. One of us with back problems is enough."

"Please. You look like you weigh about 110 pounds soaking wet. I think I could handle it," I said with a smirk. I suddenly found myself wondering how long I could hold up her body weight if her arms and legs were wrapped around me while I bounced her up and down on my cock. Maybe if I pushed her up against a wall….

I shook my head to dispel the image and led her down the hall to the massage room. I left her to get undressed, my vivid imagination wandering unfettered as I pictured her removing her shoes and socks, her cap-sleeved t-shirt, her cargo shorts and finally her bra, leaving only her panties intact by the time I returned. Would she actually wear lace panties to go hiking? I still couldn't quite understand why she favored girly underwear underneath her decidedly tomboyish clothing. It was one of her many mysteries that I was itching to solve.

I washed my hands thoroughly in the sink and tried to wash away my lurid thoughts as well. I imagined them swirling down the drain along with the soapy water, leaving my mind clean and absolved of any impure thoughts.

It worked until I entered the massage room and approached the table. By the time her dark, languid eyes gazed up into mine, I was lost in my desire for her again. I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my wits, then managed to find my tongue.

"Did Emmett tell you that he wants me to work around your rib cage today?" I asked.

She nodded and looked up at me expectantly.

"He suspects that a group of muscles called the psoas muscles might be responsible for some of your back problems. That requires me to do some deep tissue work below your ribs and above your hip. I'm going to work on your neck and back a bit first to relax you before I move on to any psoas work, okay?"

She nodded again and closed her eyes as I made my way to the head of the table and stood behind it.

"Is there any particular music you'd like to listen to?" I asked as I swept her hair gently out of the way.

"I like to listen to you. Maybe you can just sing to me," she answered, fixing me with her upside down gaze.

I stared at her a moment, startled. "I don't think I can sing and concentrate on what I'm doing at the same time," I finally said with a chuckle.

"I know," she smiled. "I was only kidding. Sort of."

I took a deep breath. "Maybe later," I offered with a laugh. But I was only half-kidding, too.

I let my usual CD of Eastern-influenced music waft gently through the room as I began to work on her neck and jaws, slowly releasing the tension from her and taking great satisfaction as her forehead relaxed and a smile played lightly upon her lips. I felt my own tension drain away as I let myself get lost in the process of unwinding Bella's fascia and soothing her muscles. As I worked my fingers down her back, I allowed myself to notice nothing but the feel of her flesh and bones pressing down on my hands, demanding that I concentrate on doing what I do best.

By the time I was finished with her back, Bella's face was a placid sea. I had managed to reach a rather Zen place myself, the healer in me taking precedence over everything else.

"Bella," I said softly as I moved around to her right side. "I'm going to work a little on your stomach muscles and ribs now. Try to stay relaxed."

She nodded up at me. I allowed myself only a glance at her face, her eyes too tempting a distraction. Likewise, I refused to look directly at the soft swell of her breasts as I placed my hands gently on the flannel sheet atop her stomach, feeling the tight sheath of muscles stretching across her belly. I wondered if she did tons of sit-ups or crunches, though she didn't seem the type. If not, then she carried a lot of tension there. I worked diligently to relax the muscles, easing my way toward her rib cage. I gently probed the edges of her ribs, one hand on each side. The right side was tightly bound, as Emmett had noted. I placed both hands there and began to press and push my way around the bones, deeper and deeper. Her stomach muscles began to tense in protest, and a peek at her wincing face revealed her discomfort.

"Try to hang on a little longer," I urged as I probed deeper, forcing the muscles to release. "Don't forget to breathe."

She still let out a long sigh of relief when I finally removed my hands. "I'm sorry. I know it's not fun for me to work on that area. But your back will thank me later," I told her.

"It's okay," she said, her eyes steely with determination. "I can take it. I want to get better."

"That's what I want, too," I assured her. "I'm going to have to slip my hand under the sheet for a moment so that I can find the group of muscles I need to work on," I warned her as I worked my hand under the flannel, being careful not to expose her in any way. I then explained what I was about to do as I probed deeply to find the posas muscles that connected her spine to her hip. I would have to push gently but firmly to force the tension from this hard-to-reach group of muscles, and she would have to put up with some discomfort once again.

She took a deep breath and nodded for me to continue. It took only a couple of minutes, but I had to push my fingers deeply and forcefully into the soft white flesh between her ribs and hip. When I finally felt the muscles give way, immense satisfaction flooded me. I lived for moments like this, when I knew I had succeeded in "fixing" someone. The fact that it was someone I cared about only added to my gratification.

"The worst is over," I told her with a smile. "I'm going to check your hips again and then we'll be finished for today." She said nothing as I worked my way down to her hip joint. She giggled and her pelvis twitched under my fingers.

"Sorry, I'm ticklish there," she apologized. Suddenly sexual impulses flooded me again at the knowledge of how sensitive the nerves were at the apex of her hip and groin. I pressed more firmly on the pressure points while I tried to suppress mental images of exploring the indentation from her thigh to her crotch… pushing the fabric of her panties aside... stroking the tender flesh there until she was wet and ready.

Holy fucknuts.

I removed my hands immediately and walked to the other side of the table, this time working on her left hip through the flannel sheet. I couldn't afford to touch her skin anymore. I could barely look at her as I told her to get dressed, and I wondered if the huskiness of my voice gave away my lust. I also wondered if my touch ever felt sexual to her… if it sent her mind wandering to the same playground I always visited whenever I had my hands on her. Sometimes when she looked at me, I was sure she wanted me as much as I did her. Or was that just another trick played by my desperate mind?

I ditched my white overcoat in the laundry basket in the back room of the office, then removed my glasses and put them safely in their case. I really only need them for reading, but often wear them while working so that I don't have to take them off and on all day just to make notations and read patient files.

I shoved the glasses case into a side pocket of the small backpack I had brought with me today. So far it contained only bottled water, a first-aid kit and bug repellent. I planned to take Bella to the coffee shop nearby and order a lunch to go.

I returned to the massage room, which Bella had vacated. I turned off the iPod and stripped the bedding from the table, resisting the urge to take a deep whiff of the sheets like I usually did. I threw them in the laundry basket, hoisted it up and carried it out front with the backpack. I had dressed in a t-shirt and jeans under my coat today so that I was ready to go.

Bella stood near the counter, pulling her long hair into a ponytail and wrapping a hair band around it. My favorite lock of hair drifted out of captivity and settled at the side of her face. Her eyes were bright and she smiled as I approached.

"I have to warn you, I'm not the most outdoorsy person you'll ever meet. And not the most graceful, either. I hope you have a first aid kit with you," she said, eying my backpack.

"I do, actually," I said with a grin.

"You must be a mind-reader," she joked.

"Or maybe I know you a little better than you think," I suggested.

"Maybe," she said dubiously, biting her lip.

I ignored the urge to kiss her and instead nodded my head toward the door. "Are you ready to go? I just need to put the laundry in my car and then we can grab some lunch."

"Sounds good," she replied, heading for the entrance as I followed close on her heels. When we got there, she pulled the door open and held it for me since my hands were full.

"You didn't need to do that," I admonished. "But thanks."

"I wanted to. And you're welcome."

She followed me silently to the Volvo and waited as I deposited the laundry basket in the trunk. I led her around the corner to the café, where Bella surprised me by ordering my favorite sandwich, the chipotle chicken. I ordered the same, plus some kettle chips and their truly decadent cheesecake brownies for dessert. I didn't know if Bella had a sweet tooth, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She didn't seem like one of those girls who pretends to eat only salad and then chows down on Ben and Jerry's in secret every night. If she wanted a brownie, I hoped she would just take one. I stowed everything in the backpack and we headed back to my car.

"Why don't I drive us there, and then I'll bring you back to your car later," I suggested.

"Sounds good," she agreed. I opened the passenger door for her and she smiled up at me as I closed the door behind her. She did say she liked a guy with manners. That's good news for me. My mother would have a conniption if any of her children were ill-behaved, and she drilled proper etiquette into our heads at an early age.

The drive to Seward Park from our office was about twenty minutes when the traffic wasn't bad. I turned on the radio and let Bella choose the station, unsurprisingly a local one that played some lesser known artists. We listened without speaking for a few moments, and I began to worry that we were both too shy to even have a normal conversation together without anyone else around.

"Have you been to this park before?" I asked, determined to end the awkward silence.

"A couple of times, with some college friends. We had a picnic and the guys went kayaking. It's really pretty, from what I remember."

"I love it because it's got a little bit of everything. Swimming, hiking, a playground for kids. My parents used to take us to Seward Park all the time when I was a kid. You can't beat the views, either," I said.

"So you grew up in Seattle?" Bella asked.

"Yeah. My folks have a place on Bainbridge Island. They keep talking about finding a place in Bellevue or Mercer Island so dad wouldn't have to take the ferry every day, but they like the shoreline property and it's been in Mom's family for years, so they're kind of attached to it," I explained.

Bella let out a low whistle. I gave her a questioning glance.

"I kind of guessed that you came from a wealthy family. Despite the holey clothes," she added with a laugh as she looked at my bare knee poking through my jeans.

"We do all right. I'm not into flaunting it, though. And I make my own way, for the most part. My apartment is the only thing I don't pay for, since my family owns the property." I hoped I didn't sound too defensive, but I really hate judging or being judged on any kind of class system. We all put our pants on one leg at a time.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're spoiled or anything. You seem really grounded, like you had a good upbringing. By a family who loves you, I mean," Bella said, starting to sound flummoxed. "I'm sorry, this is just not coming out right."

"You're fine," I assured her. "I didn't take it that way. It's true that I had a privileged upbringing. Maybe it shows more than I think it does."

"No, it doesn't. I mean, it does show in the way you carry yourself-the way you behave, like a gentleman. But you don't come across snobby or arrogant or entitled at all. None of you do. Your parents did a good job raising you, I think. I like your dad a lot, from the little I know. He was really helpful when I went to see him after I hurt my back again. He sent me to you and Emmett," she reminded me.

"My dad's a good guy. He has good intentions, anyway," I allowed. _He never voices the disappointment I see in his eyes sometimes, at any rate, _I added mentally.

"What about you?" I asked her, eager to change the subject. "I get the impression you didn't grow up in Seattle."

"I didn't," she confirmed. "My parents were both from this area originally. Dad was content to remain a small-town cop on the northwest peninsula, but my mom was itching to get out and see the world. They married young and had me pretty quickly, but then Mom grew more and more restless. They finally divorced and Mom and I moved to Phoenix. She wanted to go someplace where the sun was always shining."

She stopped and looked out the window at the blue skies overhead as we cruised down Columbian Way. I waited for her to continue, but she remained silent.

"So you came back up north to go to college?" I questioned, anxious to hear the rest of her story.

"No, actually I moved in with Dad when I was sixteen. Mom and her new husband were talking about moving to Florida and I didn't really want to go there. So I ended up in the tiny town of Forks with my dad. Kind of a big culture shock at first," she said with a little grin, finally looking back at me. "But I got used to it. Now this seems more like 'home' to me."

"Well, I'm glad you stayed here," I told her. "Otherwise I never would have met you."

She looked up at me in surprise, and then pink crept into her cheeks. I wondered how she could doubt my interest in her. I felt as transparent as cellophane, struggling continually to hide my feelings.

Bella was quiet after that, but the silence didn't seem uncomfortable this time. We listened to the radio and made small talk about the songs that were playing. Every time I took my eyes from the road to glance at her, she wore a tiny Mona Lisa smile. She looked happy. She looked like I felt.

Once we arrived at our destination, I chose the parking area closest to the wooded trails and was lucky to find a spot. The park was crowded today. Plenty of Seattle natives were taking advantage of the nice weather to jog, walk their dogs or have picnics.

"I thought we'd start on the dirt trails that go through the woods, if that's okay," I told Bella as we got out of the car. "Less crowded than the loop."

"Sure," she said amiably, following my lead as we started down the paved path that circled the island. We took the first marked entrance to the forest, and within minutes we were swallowed under a tranquil canopy of green. Only the sound of our footsteps, and the occasional bird, met our ears.

"It's really beautiful here," Bella said at last, staring up at the massive firs, cedars, hemlocks and yews as we walked. "It feels sort of …sacred."

"This is one of the few places left around Seattle that has old forest growth," I informed her. "Some of these trees are over 250 years old."

She smiled up at me and said, "Thanks, tour guide. So what other nuggets of information do you have for me?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "God, I sound exactly like my father. He loves this shit. He used to make us all learn the different trees and ground cover when we came out here. Some of them are native to the area and some aren't. I've forgotten a lot of it, but if he were with us right now, he'd be giving you the lowdown, believe me."

"That's cool, though, that your dad took time to teach you stuff. My dad did take me fishing with him a couple of times when I was a kid, but he gave up after I refused to kill the worms by putting them on the fishing hooks," Bella laughed. "He was not impressed with my campaign to save the poor, defenseless bait."

"I can just see you, all riled up over the injustice of it all," I grinned at her. "I'll bet you were cute at that age."

"I was cute until about eleven. Then the dorky years began. I grew so fast that I was nothing but skinny, uncoordinated limbs everywhere. You do realize you're hanging out with a closet geek, right? Geekdom never truly disappears. Once you've lived there, it sticks with you."

"Is that so?" I said, giving her a once-over. As pale and reedy as she still was at twenty-two, I could believe that she was quite thin and gawky during puberty. I suddenly felt overly protective of her, wishing I could go back in time and clobber anyone who made fun of her or picked her last for their team in gym class.

"Yes, it is. Not that you would know anything about that. You were always popular, with your pick of girlfriends, right?" she guessed.

I was unsure how to respond. "I did all right," I finally admitted.

"I'll bet you did," she said with a snort. "There are people in this world who are empirically beautiful…people who are universally acknowledged as being attractive. That's you. Then there are people whose looks grow on you when you get to know them better, and people who start off as ugly ducklings and then finally blossom into swans."

"And which category do you think you fall into?"

"The grower," she said with a shrug. "To know me is to love me," she added with a self-deprecating laugh.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Bella took a few steps forward, then turned and gave me a puzzled look.

"The very last thing you said is the only true sentence that's come out of your mouth in the last minute," I told her. "The rest is complete crap."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed in confusion.

"You really don't have any clue, do you?" I said in amazement.

"About what?" she demanded.

"How beautiful you are."

She stared at me with huge doe eyes, uncomprehending.

"Has no one ever told you that before?" I asked in disbelief.

She regarded me silently for a moment. "You're the first person who makes me believe it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I closed the distance between us with a few steps, then reached out and gently tucked her ubiquitous stray lock of hair behind her ear. I ran my fingers along her jaw and under her chin, tilting her face upward.

"The other men in your life have been fools," I said, running my thumb along her plump bottom lip.

"There haven't been any men in my life. Only boys," she answered.

"Then let me be your first," I whispered, lowering my face gently to hers. Her lips were tantalizingly close, her breath warm on my face. I wanted to taste her so badly that my mouth was watering. I watched her eyes close and her lips part slightly; my face mimicked hers as I leaned down closer. At last my lips brushed hers, light as butterfly wings; tentative, searching, asking for permission. In answer, her lips - so soft, so tender - began to press more firmly against mine. I raised my other hand to her face, holding it gently, caressing her silky skin. I was about to deepen our kiss, to taste her with my tongue, when a cacophony of voices met my disbelieving ears.

Bella jumped away from me slightly. I raised my head to see where the infernal, cursed noise was coming from. A large group of hikers was rounding the bend just ahead, their chatter preceding them and ruining what could have been a perfect moment. It was a good thing I wasn't armed, because I wouldn't have left a single one of them standing.

Bella let out a ragged breath as she drew back, her face flushed, suddenly bashful. She was adorable. I wanted to put my arm around her and pull her to me as we began to walk again, but I settled for staying close by her side as the talkative group approached. By the time they would finally be out of earshot, I knew the romantic moment would have long since passed. I supposed I should have thanked them for saving me from giving in to temptation.

The problem was, I no longer wanted to be saved.

* * *

**Ain't I a stinker? Don't worry, I'll be writing the rest of this chapter as quickly as I can. I'm having too much fun not to.**

**Thanks to all of you who've checked out my story and/or left feedback of one kind or another. You all keep me going. You rock!**


	13. Rationale, part 2

**As Bella would say, holy crow. I had no idea the rest of this chapter would be so long, or such a roller coaster ride. These characters surprise me every time. I could have broken this sucker down into two chapters, easily. Hopefully it will keep you all entertained regardless.**

**Thanks to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting, etc. You all keep me going. And special thanks to IvyGirl702 for the great feedback while I finished this monster today. **

**Thanks as always to Stephenie Meyer, to whom we are all indebted.**

**...and now on with the show... **

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, August 7 (cont'd.)**

After the group of hikers had passed, Bella and I managed to continue walking under a two-ton blanket of silence. What was it about this girl that made me feel like a bumbling teenager again? She was no better, staring fixedly at the path ahead of us like it might disappear if she looked in any other direction. I knew I would have to be the one to speak first.

"Well, that has to be some kind of record for incredibly bad timing," I offered at last.

"I think you're right," Bella agreed with a relieved-sounding laugh, finally glancing up at me. "I guess these trails aren't as private as you thought."

"Foiled again," I joked. "I should have brought you here on a rainy day instead."

She grinned, then grew quiet for a moment. "So…you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked, looking up at me uncertainly. "Not that I'm fishing for compliments - "

"Yes," I cut her off emphatically. "Empirically beautiful, at that."

She caught my teasing tone and narrowed her eyes at me. "Shut up."

"'Empirically beautiful'…that's a new one," I repeated, enjoying giving her a hard time. Humor seemed to be diffusing the tension between us. "That's not possible, you know. Beauty can be neither proved nor disproved. It's purely subjective. In the eye of the beholder, as they say."

"Edward, there isn't a girl alive who wouldn't find you attractive," Bella insisted.

"I'm sure that's not true. But it doesn't matter anyway. There's only one girl whose opinion matters to me, and apparently she thinks I'm perfect, so that's good enough for me."

"Ha! No, no, no. Good looks do not equal perfection. Don't put words in my mouth," she warned.

"Well, I tried to put something else in there, but I got interrupted."

That did it. Her mouth dropped open in a surprised laugh as she punched me playfully on the arm. Her cheeks turned a most delicious shade of pink, like cotton candy.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, shaking my arm as if her harmless swing had actually done damage. "Does that mean you don't want me to try it again?" I continued, feeling more reckless by the minute.

"No. I mean yes. I mean…." she trailed off, flustered, and shook her head vigorously. "You confuse the hell out of me, Edward," she finally sighed in defeat.

I answered her sigh with my own and raked my fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to. It's just… whatever this is between us kind of puts me in an ethical dilemma," I admitted. "That's why I've been resisting spending time with you; getting any closer to you."

Her teeth worried her bottom lip again as she studied me. "Then why did you ask me here today? Is getting me out in the fresh air just part of my recovery?"

I let out a wry chuckle. "That's what I like to tell myself. But the truth is, I just want to know you better. And right now that seems to be outweighing every argument against it that I can think of."

The Mona Lisa smile played at her lips again. "I'm glad. I want that too. Ever since I saw you singing that first night… I can't shake the feeling I got. I see a lot of musicians, and it's not very often that someone moves me the way you did. Whatever it is inside you that you unleashed that night… that's what I want; to understand where that came from. That's the Edward I want to know," she finished quietly.

My footsteps slowed as her words sank in. So all she wanted was to take a flashlight to the blackest parts of my soul; to pull my heart out of my chest and feel the gristle throb and squirm in her dainty fist. That's all.

A sweat broke out on my forehead and I suddenly felt warm. I spied a park bench up ahead in a patch of dappled sunlight, and I took it as an opportunity to stop and get my head together.

"Are you hungry?" I asked hopefully. "This looks like a good place to stop and have lunch." I motioned to the wooden bench as we approached.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed. I was thankful that she didn't press me any further.

We settled on the park bench and I rummaged through my backpack, withdrawing our lunch and the bottled water.

"You know you ordered my favorite," I told her as I handed her one of the identically wrapped sandwiches.

"Really? Well, that must be a sign then, right?" I was glad that there was a lightness to her tone, as if she were only joking, even if she wasn't.

"Clearly," I agreed. "We'll never have to argue over what to have for dinner."

"Exactly. Or what to listen to. So far, I'd say we have the same taste in music. Although mine is pretty eclectic," she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"So is mine," I told her. "Surprise," I added dryly.

We ate in silence for a moment, watching as a pair of joggers huffed and puffed their way past us.

"So how do you decide what songs to sing?" Bella asked after they were out of earshot, her eyes curious as she waited for my reply.

"Well, it helps if they're easily adaptable to acoustic guitar. And not so tough that I can't learn them," I chuckled. "But mostly I like to sing songs that have meaning to me. Lyrics that speak to me in some way. That's why I sing some of my own material, too. A song has to have a kind of essential truth to it. If I can't connect with it in some way, it's not worth doing."

She nodded and said, "I figured as much. That's what makes you such an authentic performer. I'm guessing it can be pretty cathartic, especially if the music is your own. I loved that original song you sang that night. The one about the sea of red. It seemed like you really dug deep for that one. It was so intense, so… visceral."

I looked into her admiring eyes and wanted to tell her how well she had guessed the truth: that the sea of red was my own blood and tears and dismal failure pouring out of me in that moment. But I couldn't seem to make my mouth form the words. She was already getting too close to the scar tissue binding that old wound shut.

She took another bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. I did the same, though my appetite was waning. Lately I had thought of nothing but getting close to this girl, and now that the moment was at hand, I could feel myself closing up like a clam protecting its tender innards.

"Edward, do you remember when you asked me about the car accident?" she said quietly, not looking at me. She crunched a potato chip between her teeth, making me wait until she had swallowed. "You wondered if something else had happened that day. You asked me about emotional scars."

I nodded and braced myself for whatever was coming.

"Well, you were right," she said, lifting determined eyes to mine. "I wasn't alone in the car. I was with my mom."

My heart sank as I realized what she was about to tell me. I didn't want to hear her struggle to say the words, but I knew she needed to do it.

"We were driving on a main thoroughfare through our suburb, going through the intersection…for some reason the lights weren't working. They were stuck. They didn't change in time, but we didn't know, we didn't realize…. This huge truck… it was just right there, all of a sudden… like it came out of nowhere." Her words were halting, her eyes distant, reliving the horror. "She was gone in an instant. Right after it happened, I was still conscious. I looked over at her, and I knew."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she held them back. I had to hold back my own as well. My heart broke for her. I wanted to take away her pain but knew I was powerless. I knew only too well.

"Bella," I whispered, reaching a hand out to console her, sweeping the hair from her face and resting my hand gently against her neck. _I'm sorry _seemed trite, almost insulting. I tried to convey my empathy through my expression, my touch.

"I moved to my dad's house in Forks because I had nowhere else to go. It wasn't so bad," she said with a wan smile. "He and I are a lot alike. He didn't push. He just let me… _be_. To deal with it in my own way, in my own time. I even saw a psychiatrist for awhile," she admitted. "But at some point, there's nothing more anyone can say or do for you. It is what it is."

She paused for a moment and frowned into her water bottle. "The worst part was that I didn't just lose my mom. I lost my best friend. I told her everything."

My fingers found her face, gently stroking her cheek. One tear finally spilled over from the well of her left eye and streamed into my waiting hand. I wiped it away as her eyes searched for strength in mine.

She must have found it, because she suddenly laughed and said, "You want to hear something crazy? I still tell her everything. I write to her all the time. I just get on my computer and pour out all the mundane details of my life in these long-winded letters that she'll never read. But sometimes it feels like she's there, reading over my shoulder, you know?"

_I know. God, how I know. _I was screaming to tell her. How could I keep it from her, now that I knew just how much we really had in common?

But this was her mothershe'd lost_. _There was no comparison. She didn't need to deal with my confessions now.

"It's not crazy," I told her, my thumb caressing her cheek, reassuring her. "I understand better than you think. And if you feel her looking over your shoulder sometimes, it's probably because she is." I wasn't sure what I believed about heaven and hell. But I wanted to believe that Bella's mother could be a comforting presence to her, because she deserved it.

"I like to think that," Bella said, the side of her mouth curving upward in a sad smile. "Anyway, you have your answer now. I definitely have 'an emotional scar.' Probably more than one. So now you know what you're dealing with."

My own words echoed back to me from our dinner at the Turkish restaurant. She had come clean with me and answered my questions at last. I knew that my turn would come eventually.

"I'm glad you told me," I said softly, my fingers straying to her temple, stroking her hair. "I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, but I do know what it's like to lose someone too soon. It's never fair, and it leaves you wondering why. I think you are incredibly strong and brave. And I want to help you get even stronger."

She reached up and put her hand over mine, her fingers warm as they gripped my wrist. "You already have," she whispered. "And I'm not just talking about the massage therapy."

I took her hand in mine and laced my fingers through hers, gripping them tightly. I wished I could will her to recover completely, to be whole and undamaged again. But how could I do that for her when I couldn't even do it for myself?

"Edward," she said softly, my name wafting like angel's breath from her lips. "I know there's something you're not telling me. But it's okay. I'll never pressure you. I just want you to know that whatever your story is, you can trust me with it."

I gazed at her beautiful face and wondered how I got so lucky. She was too good to be true. Too good for me, at any rate.

"I do trust you. It's not about that," I assured her. I stared at our hands joined together, mine dwarfing hers. I didn't want my demons to do the same.

"Let's leave my stories for another time," I implored. "It's too nice a day to get caught up in the past anymore. You know what they say about the present, right?"

"No, what?"

"It's a gift." I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop the snicker that escaped.

"Present…gift. Ha, ha," she said, drawing out the fake laughs at the end.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"It's actually true, though," she smiled, giving my hand a squeeze. I nodded and squeezed back, then reluctantly disengaged my fingers from hers.

"So, why don't we finish up this lunch and then head back out to the loop?" I suggested. "The view of Rainier from there is pretty sweet. We can start planning our climbing expedition. Because after we've conquered the rest of the parks and forests around here, I know you'll be itching for a bigger challenge."

"You're hilarious. I was wrong; you should be a comedian instead of a singer," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"I'm a regular Renaissance man. Too bad we don't have any apples so I can impress you with my juggling act."

"Really now," she snorted, eyeing me doubtfully. "You're kidding, right?"

"Would I kid you about something like that?"

She scrutinized my face carefully. "Yes, I think you would."

"You have a suspicious mind. Eat your sandwich," I ordered with a grin.

"Yes, sir," she replied, taking an exaggerated bite. "You're kind of bossy, you know that?"

"It has been brought to my attention a time or two," I admitted, sinking my teeth into my own chipotle chicken.

"It's disturbingly sexy," she said, giving me a provocative sideways glance.

The mouthful of sandwich I'd been chewing suddenly plummeted down my esophagus in one surprised gulp. "You really shouldn't have said that. I might start telling you what to do more often."

She looked unperturbed. "Just because you tell me to do something doesn't mean I have to do it."

"Now, see, that's exactly the kind of insolent behavior that just eggs me on. Be forewarned."

She only giggled. "I'm not afraid of you, Edward."

_But I'm terrified of you._

I didn't let it show. I merely raised a warning eyebrow at her, tempered with a smirk.

We kept the conversation light from then on. I was pleased that Bella didn't pass on dessert, wolfing down her cheesecake brownie with gusto and making some rather distracting noises of pleasure as she did so. She didn't seem to hold back with me anymore, and the thrill it gave me rivaled the fear of giving in myself.

By the time we made it back to the paved path that circled the island, I had learned that Bella adores the color blue, hates getting up in the morning, loves Gruyere cheese "even though it smells like vomit," doesn't own a pair of high-heeled shoes, and favors Gerbera daisies "because they're so cheerful," though lilacs came in at a close second because of their scent. Likewise, she was now privy to my preference for used, well-washed clothes (they're softer); my dislike of shaving; my recurring addiction to the Discovery channel; my penchant for books about the supernatural; and my irrational hatred of dolls (they're creepy, eyes always following you with that unblinking, glassy stare.) We share a love - inherited from our parents - of old Loony Tunes and Monty Python episodes, 60s and 70s music, and 80s teen flicks (they broke the mold after John Hughes.)

We were two old souls finding common ground as we traveled the winding trail back to the main path. I lost all track of time and place; there was only Bella beside me, her presence overwhelming all my senses, rendering me senseless. So I was surprised when we emerged from our shroud of green to a bank of clouds being pushed our way by a strong wind whipping over Lake Washington. Our sunny Seattle day had given way to its perpetually gloomy counterpart, and thunder began to roll in like a bowling ball aiming for its hapless pins.

"I suppose we ought to head back for the car," I said reluctantly. "It's still a good half-mile back to the parking lot."

"I guess so," Bella agreed, sounding as unhappy about the prospect as I did. "I probably need to get back to my place before too long anyway. I have to get ready for tonight."

"What's tonight?" I asked, suddenly uneasy.

"I guess I didn't tell you, did I? Rosalie convinced two of our bosses to check out The Wolf Pack tonight at the Rusty Nail, so we all have to be there," she said, making it sound more like an obligation than something she really wanted to do.

"That's great news, right? You must be excited."

"Yeah, of course I am. I'm just not really anxious to cut our day short," she explained, giving me a sideways smile.

I tried to curb my satisfied grin. "Well, it's only two-thirty," I said as I pulled my cell phone out and checked the time. "What time do you have to be there?"

"The show's not until nine, but I told Jake I'd meet him for dinner first to go over a few things. He's got about a million questions for me. He's wound tighter than an eight-day alarm clock right now," she laughed.

All I heard was that Bella was having dinner with Jacob Black. Again.

"So what time do you have to meet him?" I asked at last, trying in vain to sound nonchalant.

"He's picking me up at six-thirty, so we still have plenty of time," she answered brightly.

All I heard was that that gym monkey had managed to finagle another date with Bella without her even being aware of what he was up to. Or was she? My mind began to seethe with unwelcome thoughts.

I looked at my watch and figured I had less than two hours left of my afternoon with her, and half of it would be taken up in drive time. I began to mentally curse the encroaching clouds. As if in retribution, large drops of rain began to splatter the pavement around us, one hitting me square on the tip of my nose.

"Shit," I mumbled, picking up the pace. I could see the parking lot in the far distance, but it was still likely we'd be soaked by the time we arrived at my car.

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised," Bella sighed, hurrying to keep up with me. Despite the height difference between us, her legs were nearly as long as mine. Thinking about that drove me crazy, but it was impossible to ignore as I glanced down at her ivory legs pumping swiftly next to mine.

We had nearly made it to the lot when the sky opened up, pouring a deluge of cold water on all of us hapless humans as we began racing to our cars.

"Should we make a run for it?" I nearly had to shout over the sound of the torrential rain hitting the pavement.

Bella nodded and I grabbed her hand. I remembered where I had parked the Volvo, and I steered us in that direction as we ran between the rows of cars, water splashing up around our ankles and soaking our socks and shoes. Bella let out a kind of laugh or scream as we tried in vain to beat the downpour, and we began to run faster.

Suddenly, I felt a hard tug on my fingers, and her hand was abruptly wrenched free of mine. I looked down to see Bella sprawled on her hands and knees; she had slipped on the slick pavement and fallen.

I crouched quickly in front of her, gasping, "Are you okay?"

She squinted through the rain into my frantic face and began to laugh. "I'm fine. I do this all the time."

I helped her to her feet and looked her over; her right knee was raw and oozing droplets of blood, which quickly mixed with the rainwater and trickled in rivulets down her leg. She winced as she put weight on it, and I began to fear she had twisted her ankle.

"You're not fine," I told her. Before she could protest, I scooped her up in my arms and held her tight against me while I hurried as fast as I could to the car. I set her down gently outside the passenger door as I fumbled in my pocket for my keys. As soon as the car was unlocked, I eased her into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and zoomed around the car to slide in behind the wheel.

Panting slightly, I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes and looked worriedly over at Bella. She was grinning at me much like a Cheshire cat, albeit a rather drowned-looking one.

"What?" I demanded.

"That was very heroic of you. Very sweet. Considering all I did was scrape my knee," she giggled.

"Are you sure? How's your ankle?" I reached over and pulled her right leg gently upward, twisting her body toward mine. I gingerly examined the bones above her foot, then glanced up to see her still-amused expression as she watched me.

"My ankle is fine," she insisted. "In fact, it's feeling pretty happy right now, all things considered." She nodded toward my hands still circling her leg.

Geezus, this girl was going to be the death of me. Well, two could play at that game.

I slid my hands slowly up her calf and gently cupped the back of her knee, placing my thumbs on either side of the ugly scrape beaded with blood. "It's a good thing I brought the first aid kit, after all."

Here eyes were dark and luminous, her wet lashes stuck together in clumps. I'd never seen her look so pretty. Her vibrant pink mouth seemed to beckon to me as she slowly bit her lip. It was all I could do to let go of her long enough to disentangle myself from my backpack and find the first aid kit.

She said nothing as I cleaned the blood and rain from her leg with a hydrogen peroxide-soaked gauze pad. I dabbed first aid ointment lightly on the raw skin, quickly checking her face for signs of pain. Her brow furrowed slightly and her lips pressed together tightly, but she made no sound. Stoic. I knew she would be.

I finished by covering the area with another scrap of clean gauze and fastening it in place with a large bandage. "How's that?" I asked softly.

"Perfect," she whispered. "Thank you, Doctor Cullen."

I exhaled in a quick laugh. "I may not be a doctor, but I did get my Boy Scout badge in first aid."

"You're a doctor as far as I'm concerned. No one's ever healed me the way you do."

Something in her voice made me wonder if one of my siblings had been talking to her, telling her things. My eyes narrowed as I studied her. She knew I had planned to be a doctor. And in that moment, she knew that I knew. Her eyes were curious but patient. I was at a loss.

Bella saved me. "You did, however, forget one very important thing," she accused with mock severity.

"What's that?"

"You have to kiss it to make it better." Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

My grin was irrepressible. "Far be it from me to impede the healing process with such negligence." I gently lifted her leg while I bent my head down. I placed a gentle kiss right below the bandage, one to each side, and one above before resting my lips on the plastic tape directly over the wound. When I raised my eyes to hers, her lids were heavy, her lips parted, waiting. Wanting. The same way, the same thing that I wanted.

I lowered her leg to the car seat, placing my hand next to her thigh. My body was twisted to face her as I leaned in, my mouth zeroing in on hers with missile-like precision. Her breath was coming fast, in shallow bursts, mingling with mine as our lips drew closer. Her eyes were open, sweeping the length of my face and back up again, taking me in as I was her. Neither of us let our lids flutter closed until contact was made; and at that first meeting of soft against soft, our lips uttered tiny moans in unison, as if the release was too much to bear in silence.

I tilted my head slightly for better access, not satisfied with just a taste this time. My mouth opened against hers, my hungry tongue sliding between her lips, demanding entrance. It met no resistance as she responded in kind, her sweet tongue coming to meet mine, eager to begin this dance.

I moaned again when I felt her hands on my face, gently stroking the shadow on my jaw before settling into the wet curls behind my ears. The kiss went on in maddening slow motion, a mutual exploration of this delicious new territory that neither of us was eager to end. I reached toward her with my right hand as best I could, caressing the soft line of her cheek and following it down to the hollow of her neck. My mouth would not be swayed from its target, lips instinctively feeling for hers, tongue tasting and searching and memorizing this new playground. The resulting sensations traveled like shockwaves through my body, each rolling into the next so that I couldn't discern where one ended and the next began. I couldn't remember the last time I'd experienced a kiss this significant, this memorable. Perhaps I never had.

Our breathing was even more labored than before as we finally paused to catch our breath, though each other's was infinitely more desirable. Her fingers were feather-light as she stroked my face, yet the reverberations shook me down to my core. I wanted her hands all over me, her body wrapped around me. I was ready to pull her onto my lap and take her right there in the parking lot, the pouring rain outside camouflaging the view of our bodies from prying eyes. My thoughts were chaotic as I stared at her wildly for a moment, seriously considering it.

Bella's eyes were round as she looked into mine, slightly surprised but unafraid at the intensity she found there. I closed my lids and took a deep breath, needing to gain control, reign myself in. I didn't know how much longer I could balance on the edge of this knife blade. I was very nearly ready and willing to freefall for her.

Bella's hands continued their gentle, soothing strokes along my cheeks, my jaw, my neck. When I finally looked at her, her eyes were my anchor.

"It worked," she said softly, a small smile playing at her lips.

"What worked?" I asked, my voice ragged.

"My knee stopped hurting." She paused while I relaxed and managed a chortle. "In fact, I'm not really sure I have knees anymore. I think they might be Jell-o now."

And just like that, Bella allowed me to rationalize our entire first kiss away as nothing more than my doctor's duty. I had kissed her hurt and made it all better. I knew that I had become truly delusional if were trying to keep up any pretense of physician's protocol now. But it was the only thing making me pull away from Bella and start the car so I would take her home instead of having my way with her in the back seat.

I glanced over and saw her shiver slightly as she folded her arms around her middle. She was still sopping wet, her ponytail a bedraggled mess hanging over one shoulder, her rigid nipples clearly visible through her soaked t-shirt. Shit. Why did I have to notice that now?

I forced my eyes northward to hers. "Are you cold? I can turn on the heat."

She shook her head. "I'm just missing you next to me."

Double shit. "I'm really trying to actually leave this parking lot and get you home safely. You are making that very difficult," I finally admitted in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding very sorry at all. "I think you injected me with truth serum sometime during that kiss."

"Really? Interesting. I'm going to have to deliberate on how to use that to my advantage," I said as I checked the mirrors and backed out of our parking spot.

"Ask me anything," she said bravely.

"Okay," I said, taking her up on the offer. "Why did you agree to have dinner with Jacob Black again?"

The exasperation was hers this time. "It's not a date. I told you, it's work."

"I'll bet you a recording contract that Jacob doesn't see it that way at all."

She shook her head vehemently. "I made it perfectly clear where we stand. He knows this is strictly business. Well, and friendship. We've always been friends."

"So he did try something last weekend," I surmised, feeling vindicated. I glanced over at her guilty face and got my answer.

"Look. I just explained to him that business and pleasure do not mix. It's a recipe for disaster. I don't want to risk losing his friendship, or souring the business relationship. Besides, I don't have those kinds of feelings for him," she ended staunchly.

"You're absolutely right, about all of it," I agreed, wondering if she would see the irony.

She was quiet a moment. "And yes, it did not escape me that that's probably how you've been feeling about me this whole time."

"Right again. Except for the part about my feelings for you," I said quietly. I kept my eyes on the road as we merged onto Columbian, but I could feel her gaze burning through me.

"Well, then. We'll just have to figure something out," she said matter-of-factly.

I tried to stifle my guffaw and settled for smiling and shaking my head. She made it sound laughably simple. Maybe it was. Maybe I should just say "fuck it" and do whatever I pleased.

I turned the car's fan up a bit, but it was no match for our damp clothing. My jeans were feeling uncomfortably stiff and cold next to my legs, and I couldn't wait to get home and change into dry clothes.

"Hey," I said as an idea dawned. "My place actually isn't that far from here. Why don't we go there and throw your clothes in the dryer? I don't want you to spend the next hour soaking wet while I take you to your car and you drive home."

"Oh," she said in surprise. "Sure, that sounds great."

I took a mental inventory of how I'd left the loft that morning. It wasn't too messy. I generally keep things simple and uncluttered so I don't have a lot to clean. I was reasonably sure I wouldn't be embarrassed to have her see my place right now.

We grew quiet as I neared the industrial district and took the exit to my neighborhood. I was glad to see that the worst of the rainstorm had passed, and only a few stray droplets were now hitting the windshield. Bella finally spoke as we passed the old factories and crumbling brick buildings.

"This is where you live?" she asked incredulously.

In answer, I turned the corner and pulled up in one of several vacant parallel parking spots in front of the old Cullen mill that I now called home. I smiled at the confusion on her face as I turned off the engine. I quickly got out and went to her side of the car, opening the door and extending my hand.

"Welcome to Casa Cullen," I grinned.

She said nothing as she put her hand in mine and let me pull her from the front seat. I kept my fingers entwined with hers as I unlocked the main entrance and led her through the cavernous, empty main floor to the service elevator.

"It's a good thing I trust you," she joked as the lift chugged and trundled up to the third floor. "It feels like there's not a soul around."

"Well, on a Saturday, there's probably not," I admitted. I raised a provocative eyebrow at her and gave her a lewd smirk.

"Stop," she ordered, letting go of my hand in order to give my shoulder a half-hearted shove. I laughed and put my arm around her as the elevator ground to a halt.

When I unlocked the heavy door to the loft, I barely pushed it open before indignant meowing met our ears. Lucky had been asleep on the couch when I left this morning, so I'd locked him inside. He voiced his displeasure at being held captive as soon as we entered the room.

"Oh, this must be Lucky!" Bella exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. "He's beautiful."

"He cleaned up all right," I shrugged. The cat was entranced with the arrival of someone new into his sphere-someone who might have better food to eat, or a softer lap to sit on. He wasted no time rubbing his scent of ownership all over Bella's bare legs. She merely laughed and knelt down to pet him, immediately finding his favorite spot to be scratched, under his chin. He responded by throwing himself at her feet, writhing and rubbing himself all over her shoes in a most shameless manner.

"Look at how fickle this cat is," I exclaimed. "See if I ever give you salmon again, Benedict Arnold."

"Aw, don't listen to him, Lucky," Bella cooed as she crouched down and rubbed his belly while he purred loudly. "You know where to come for some good lovin'."

Most happily married couples I know always say they have a moment when "they knew." That moment when it struck them that this was the real deal; this was "the one." I always thought it was horse hockey. And then I watched my cat fall in love with Bella Swan, and there it was.

I Knew.

I took a deep breath and did the only sensible thing: I fled the scene. I excused myself to my bedroom to find something for Bella to wear while her clothes were in the dryer. I found my smallest plain t-shirt and pair of drawstring sweats, figuring she could tie them tightly around her tiny waist.

I returned to break up the Lucky love fest and show Bella to the bathroom so she could change. Once back in my bedroom, I peeled off my own damp clothes, trying not to imagine her doing the same in the next room. My dick was already at half-mast and had been on and off ever since we kissed. It wasn't used to the celibacy I had imposed upon it the past few months, nor was it used to being tied to my emotions anymore. It was as confused and aroused as the rest of me. I grabbed a baggy pair of sweats to camouflage its flexing muscles, then threw on one of my arsenal of faded, threadbare t-shirts.

As I returned to the open living area, Bella emerged shyly from the bathroom, a diminutive version of me in her matching outfit. I was a thin guy, but my clothes hung on her like sacks. Yet the thin, soft cotton of the shirt I'd given her still clung tenaciously to her slight curves, its v-neck exposing an expanse of creamy skin between petite breasts pointing subtly up at me on either side. I had never seen anything in my life as sexy as Bella wearing my clothes. When I looked at her wet garments balled up between her hands and realized she had no underwear on, my dick lost all sense of propriety.

"Here, let me take those," I offered, quickly reaching out and taking her discarded clothing. I made a beeline for the far end of the loft, which housed the odd combination of my laundry area and a gym of sorts, complete with weights, a treadmill and a boxing bag. I sorted her impossibly small shorts, shirt, underwear and socks and put them in the dryer. I tried not to finger her pastel cotton bikinis and bra too long, though it was embarrassingly tempting to do so. I realized that her cotton panties where trimmed with lace, and I remembered the times I had felt it beneath the shield of flannel during our massage sessions. She had split the difference between no-nonsense comfort and sexiness with one effortless choice.

The One.

I ran my fingers roughly through my damp hair, trying to rub some sense into my ridiculous brain. I inhaled deeply and went back to the living room. I found Bella peering at my stacks of CD's and vinyl albums, piled high up the walls in various shelving units. At its center was my piecemeal stereo, comprised of an old turntable, cassette and CD player, an iPod docking station and everything in between.

"You have records!" she marveled, her fingers flipping through the cardboard covers.

"I like to listen to old stuff on vinyl," I admitted. "I love the sound, so rich and warm. I even like the scratches and pops."

"Me too," she enthused. She stopped and pulled out a Carole King album. "I can't believe you own this."

"I have Joni Mitchell, too," I laughed, unashamed.

"I still have all my mom's old albums," she said. "I couldn't bear to part with them. I didn't want to, anyway. She had great taste."

"So did my parents, and aunts and uncles. I've always liked old music. I love to go to the few record stores that still exist and look at all the vintage vinyl. Sometimes I think I was born too late."

"I'm glad you were, or I would have missed you," she said. I barely had time to register the comment before she discovered my punk rock collection and began squealing over original editions of The Clash, the Ramones and the Stooges.

"I wish I had time to stay and listen to some of these," she said wistfully.

"You can come back, you know," I smiled.

"Can I?" she asked. We hadn't really determined how we were going to "figure something out."

"Of course." I already didn't want her to leave.

"So where do you keep your guitars?" she asked. "I know you must have more than one."

"You're good," I grinned. I led her out of the living room, past the bathroom and partitioned-off bedroom, and back to the open end of the loft. My five guitars, another old sofa, stacks of music and a baby grand piano resided not far from the hum of the dryer at the end of the huge space.

Her eyes swept the length of the room, quickly taking in the gym and laundry appliances, then growing round as they settled on the piano. Apparently all thoughts of my guitars were gone.

"You play this?" she gasped, walking toward it and running her fingers lightly along the polished lid.

"Since I was a kid," I replied. "Mom made us all take music lessons. Piano was my choice. Guitar came later."

"I can't believe you have this in here," she whispered in awe. "This is beautiful."

"It sounds pretty nice, especially with these acoustics," I answered, motioning to the high ceilings.

"Will you play something for me?" she pleaded, her voice small and childlike.

"Sure. What do you want to hear?" I asked as I followed her and pulled out the bench.

"Anything. Whatever you want."

"Well, I've got all the classical music I learned as a kid in the piano bench," I began. "But, there is a song I've been trying to learn. Don't laugh too hard if I mess it up."

"I'd never laugh at you," she said. "With you, maybe," she added with a laugh.

I sat down and pulled the bench up to the keyboard, then motioned for Bella to sit next to me. Her eyes were bright with anticipation as she scooted onto the bench. I tried to quell the queasiness that rippled through my belly every time I was about to perform, let alone a private show for someone whose opinion already meant so much to me.

As soon as the melancholy chords of the song began to flow from my fingers, I felt myself calm down a little. The words came easily then, because at this moment, they could have been my own.

_There's one way out and one way in_

_Back to the beginning_

_There's one way back to home again_

_To where I feel forgiven_

_What is this I feel, why is it so real_

_What am I to say_

_It's only love, it's only pain_

_It's only fear, that run through my veins_

_It's all the things we can't explain_

_That make us human_

_I am just an image of something so much greater_

_I am just a picture frame, I am not the painter_

_Where do I begin, can I shed this skin_

_What is this I feel within_

_It's only love, it's only pain_

_It's only fear that runs through my veins_

_It's all the things you can't explain_

_That make us human*_

After the last chords drifted off into the silence, I slowly looked at Bella, who sat still as a stone next to me. She seemed slightly stunned as she looked at me; her eyes were filled with tears.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," I apologized instantly. The last thing I wanted was to make her sad again, after what she had revealed to me earlier.

"Edward," she said softly, shaking her head at me as if I were completely daft. "You don't even know what a gift you have."

"Bella," I replied evenly. "You might be a little biased."

"Stop," she whispered, pressing her fingers against my lips. She shook her head at me again. Her fingers drifted down my neck, leaving trails of warmth that settled on my chest beneath her hand. "You don't know what you do to me."

Her eyes and her words were liquid fire, branding me. In one sentence she had just expressed the very essence of my growing feelings for her, and my fear of giving into them.

"You have that backwards," I murmured, raising my hand to her face, tracing the delicate swell of her cheek, my thumb caressing the soft edge of her jaw. Our faces had drawn close again, each breathing in what the other exhaled. I couldn't stop staring at the perfect bow of her upper lip, plump and delicious; but I was frozen, unable to move.

"Kiss me," she said, her words so gossamer light that I nearly didn't comprehend them.

I rubbed my thumb over that lip, memorizing the shape and feel of it. "If I kiss you, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

"Is that a bad thing?" Her lips moved against my thumb as she formed the words.

"It is if you want to make it to dinner on time."

She stared at me in surprise. Her face fell as she backed away from my hand; I let it fall to my lap. I hated to put a damper on the moment, but she was the one who was about to leave to meet another guy for dinner. As much as I tried to tell myself I had nothing to worry about, I just didn't trust Jacob Black, even if Bella did. And as the clock ticked closer to the time she would be with him, my unease grew.

A loud buzzing noise jarred us both. The dryer's timer had gone off, effectively ending whatever moment we might have salvaged.

"I guess that's my cue, then," Bella said, rising from the piano bench and walking back to the dryer.

"You don't have to do that," I called after her, getting up to follow.

"You've done enough already. I can at least get my own clothes out of the dryer," she replied as she approached the machine. I watched her gather her things and walk back toward me, but she didn't stop. "I'll just go change in the bathroom," she said as she passed.

Fuck. _Killjoy, _I berated myself. If I'd played my cards right, maybe I could have convinced her to ditch monkey boy and stay with me instead.

And maybe that's exactly why I did it.

Bella thanked me for loaning her my clothes, and showing her my place, and playing her a beautiful song. Her subdued politeness felt like daggers to my gut. My own long-perfected subdued politeness felt right at home. It carried me through the next half-hour as I drove her to her car and asked benign questions about her job and her evening ahead. It was almost like our long, open conversations and our amazing kiss had never happened, and we were right back to being therapist and patient.

It was easy and comfortable. I hated it.

She was about to exit my car to go to hers, when she suddenly turned to me, her eyes feverish.

"Please come see me tonight. Come to the Rusty Nail later on. Our bosses will probably only stay for the first set, and then we can just have fun. Rosalie is bringing Emmett. You can keep me company while the band plays," she said, her voice almost pleading, her eyes hopeful. She didn't want to lose all the progress we had made today, and now it was time for me to figure out if I wanted to do the same.

"So I'll be Jacob's chair warmer while he's playing? I don't know if I really want to be a fifth wheel," I hedged. There had to be some kind of award for the lengths I was going to just to shoot myself in the foot.

She was beginning to look frustrated, almost angry. "I don't know what I have to do to convince you that this is not a date tonight. I don't want to date Jake. You're the one who seems determined to push me in his direction, for some reason that I cannot even begin to fathom."

I tried to formulate a denial, but my tongue was tied.

Bella took a deep breath; it sounded shaky. But her voice was low and controlled when she finally spoke. "I don't know who hurt you in the past, Edward, but I'm not her. If you want to stop punishing me for what she did, you know where to find me."

My mouth was literally agape when I looked at her. She was out of the car and slamming the door in my stunned face before I could reply. Surely Alice hadn't told her anything. She wouldn't. No, Bella just knows me. Not the details of my life or my past. Just the workings of my mind; the essence of who I am. She gets me. But even she has her limits.

My mind was in turmoil the whole way home. I tried figure out how to go back somehow; to put the contents back into Pandora's box. I knew I couldn't; I knew I didn't want to. But I didn't know how to go forward, either.

Things are worse now that I'm home. I'm swilling beer, choking down pizza, cursing at the cat. He's eying me disdainfully like the fucking idiot I am. After all, he knew where to go for some good lovin', and had no trouble staying when he got there.

Emmett is out with Rosalie; Alice is with Jasper; and soon Bella will be with Jacob Black. And if I sit here thinking about this for one minute longer, I will lose my goddamned mind.

I need to get out of here and find something to keep me occupied. Something involving copious amounts of brain-numbing alcohol sounds perfect. And when that's my MO, I know exactly who to call.

I'm checking my cell to see if I still have his number. Even though I haven't gotten falling-down drunk with him since college, I have the feeling he'll still be up to the task if he doesn't have any other plans this evening.

No more rationalizing for today. In fact, no more thinking whatsoever.

It's time to call my old buddy James.

* * *

*"Human" by Civil Twilight. Lyrics property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

**Oh, Edward. It's never a good idea to call James. The upcoming evening ought to be interesting. I'm sure Bella will have a thing or two to say about the proceedings... just as soon as my hands recover from typing this chapter. ;)**


	14. Vertigo, part 1

**It happened again...a chapter turning out longer than I expected. These characters sure talk a lot. But Bella had some interesting things to add about her walk in the park with Edward, so I went with it. ;)**

**Here is part one of Bella's side of things. Part two to come soon, or I suspect I may be lynched.**

**Thanks for the inspiration, Stephenie Meyer. And thanks to all of you for giving my story a chance and letting me know what you think. I appreciate it so very much!**

_**

* * *

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_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 8**

Oh, Mom. How I wish you were here. I need you more than ever.

It's ironic because most of the details I'm about to relate are things I'd never dream of telling you if you were still alive. Like always, I'm hoping that writing everything out in printed words will help me sort it out in my head. I don't think there's much to be done about my heart, though. It feels like Edward took it with him when he left this morning.

Remember what I said the day I met him? That my nerves made me feel like I was getting ready for a ride on Space Mountain? That was a profound moment of precognition on my part. The past twenty-four hours have been such a roller coaster that I feel like I'm suffering from a severe case of vertigo.

I suppose that as high as I was the past couple of days, the only place left to go was down. I spent the time between Thursday night and yesterday morning on an inflated pink cloud of euphoria. Pinching myself wasn't enough to ensure that I was conscious anymore. I still had to replay the closing scene Thursday night in my head: Edward asking me out. Edward calling me "Bella." And not just finally uttering the name, but saying it in such a low, velvety tone that I very nearly fainted on the spot. He whispered my name in the Sex Voice. The tone that is so utterly devastating, so utterly Edward, that the echo of it reverberated ceaselessly inside my head for the next two days. I carried it with me like the tape recorder in my pocket, replaying it in the banks of my memory again and again. I became enraptured at the sound of my own name, a name I had merely tolerated before. I heard him murmur it constantly; felt the breath of it on my face over and over. I began to imagine all the occasions in which he might repeat it; the different ways in which he might say it.

And then I suddenly froze in horror at the thought that he might never utter it again. That I would enter Cullen and Cullen Saturday morning only to be greeted by the smooth, unruffled countenance of the therapist who called me "Miss Swan."

So when he smiled and said "Bella" the minute I walked through the door, the resultant thrill was also the sweetest relief I could have known. I'll never understand how someone who excites me so can also soothe me like no other. But that's exactly what he did yesterday morning. Our massage session seemed more productive than last week's, as he managed to lull me into a state of trancelike relaxation with his gifted hands. I think that I had spent so much nervous energy anticipating our next meeting that by the time I was finally in his presence, I collapsed into a grateful calm.

I only began to tense up when he placed his hands on my ribs, so close to where I longed for his fingers to stray. My erotic thoughts soon took a dive as he started to do work that was much more like Emmett's, intensely probing my middle and challenging my pain threshold. He asked me to hang on and be strong for him, and I did. I would do anything for him. I trust him to the point of blind folly. At least, I suspect that's how he sees it. Yet he proves to me again and again that I'm justified in my faith. All I have to do is make him see that, and help him find a little faith in himself. I'm beginning to see that's a lot easier said than done.

But I'm jumping ahead. The massage therapy lived up to its name; as always, Edward was a master. I felt focused and energized after he was done, and I couldn't wait to spend the rest of the day with him. I wanted to milk every moment of togetherness out of him that I could before I had to leave for work. And that's exactly how I thought of my evening ahead, as work. Getting The Wolf Pack signed was high on my list of priorities, but the opportunity to get to know Edward better was eclipsing it at the moment.

He offered to drive to Seward Park, which I kind of figured he would, but it was still nice to hear him suggest it. I was comforted by the fact that he drives a rather non-descript, older-model Volvo. For one thing, Volvos are safe. For another, it proves Edward doesn't need to use his vehicle as a status symbol to flaunt his wealth. He confirmed that my assumption was correct; he's from a well-to-do family. I tend to think that Edward dresses down and makes himself look as ordinary as possible on purpose, to draw less attention to himself. For someone both affluent and as jarringly handsome as Edward, blending in has probably been wistfully unattainable most of his life.

The afternoon was sublime. There's no other way to put it. I had dreamed of spending quality time like this with Edward so much during the past few weeks that I could barely believe it was actually happening. We talked about dozens of different topics, from the silly to the deadly serious. I found out priceless details about him that I never could have guessed in a million years. I mean, what guy is afraid of dolls? I tried in vain not to laugh as he described how he could feel their creepy eyes following him around the room. Every new piece of information painted a richer, more colorful picture of him… made him real and multi-dimensional, instead of the fantasy character I'd been conjuring up in my wishful imagination. By the end of the day I wanted the Real Edward more that I'd ever dreamed possible. I could feel the want throbbing in my chest, even when he was sitting right beside me.

The first time he tried to kiss me, I thought my heart would rupture, it was beating so hard. He told me I'm beautiful. I tried to remember if Mike had ever told me that. Jake calls me "beautiful" and "gorgeous" all the time, but in his usage, the words are generic nicknames rather than a heartfelt professions.

When Edward Cullen told me I'm beautiful, I believed it. Believed it like I never have before. The way he said it, as if it were indisputable fact, was what hit me so hard. He looked incredulous, even affronted, that other guys seemed to have missed what he found so obvious. He is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. To discover that he might see me in even a fraction of that light was a revelation that I could scarcely comprehend.

He told me that the other men in my life have been fools. I could think of no other men in my life, save my father. By definition, he's required to see the beauty in me. No one else has ever been up to the task. Mike was still an overgrown kid when we broke up last year, and Jake, two years my junior, still brims with boyish enthusiasm. Edward's vivid green eyes, though framed with lashes so lush any girl would be envious, fixed me with a gaze that was all man. Whatever was about to happen between us was no child's game.

I told him there had been no other men in my life before him. His nostrils flared slightly and his lips pressed together with conviction before he spoke.

"Then let me be your first."

I will never forget those words as long as I live. The way he said them, what they implied. For one crazy moment I was convinced that I belonged to him, and he to me. I was quivering with anticipation as he leaned down to seal our covenant with a kiss. My eyes closed; my breath caught as my lips parted. At the exquisite touch of his mouth on mine, I exhaled shakily and wondered if I might faint. How embarrassing would that be?

I was saved by a group of noisy hikers coming up behind me, and I hated them for it. The moment was lost. I knew I would never rest until I got it back. And the next time, I would most assuredly not let myself lose consciousness at the key moment.

Edward managed to make a joke of the interruption, and about my statement that I found him "empirically beautiful." I recalled the off-color comments he had made during our very first massage session, before he had ever seen my face or really knew who I was. I'd been trying to find that Edward ever since, the one who seemed irreverent and unself-conscious. And as the afternoon progressed, he revealed more and more of that unguarded side to me. I was in heaven.

I wondered if he could have the slightest idea of how enamored I was of everything about him, no matter how minute. I memorized the gait of his long-legged stride, the sweep of his large but elegant hands to illustrate his point when talking, the myriad moods of his expressive face. My favorite was his pout: lips pursed, cheeks sucked in, thick brows furrowed, eyes searching. He used this expression whenever he paused to find the right words to explain himself. My second-favorite was his smirk, usually accompanied by one raised eyebrow and a look in his eyes so suggestive that it burned a path of desire deep in my belly.

No, I take it back: my favorite expression was the one on his face right before he kissed me: lips parted, breathing fast; eyes glistening with need and want and maybe a little fear. They mirrored my own, I'm sure. That look is stamped indelibly in my brain. The feel of his mouth on mine was something else altogether.

I wonder if it would have happened if I hadn't fallen? The encroaching rain clouds had sent us in the direction of the car a little early, but we didn't make it back before the deluge began. I thought of you the minute my shoe slipped on the rain-soaked pavement and I went down. I could just see you up in heaven, shaking your head and exclaiming, "My poor Bella!" I heard the thunder and thought maybe you and God were having a good-natured laugh at my perpetual clumsiness.

My knee was bleeding a little and it hurt to put weight on my leg, but it was no big deal. Edward, however, flipped into some kind of knight-in-shining-armor mode and scooped me up in his arms before I even knew what he was doing. He carried me the remaining distance to the car and insisted on bandaging me up. At first I thought it was funny, and I joked that he had to kiss it to make it better. By the time he was done planting baby kisses all over my knee, I wasn't laughing anymore. I wanted those lips on mine more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. Melodramatic, but true, in that moment.

The kiss. Oh, God, the kiss. How are there words to accurately describe a first kiss that you've been craving so badly? A kiss that conjures up every cliché about kisses that you've ever read, from fireworks and bombs going off, to drowning in ecstasy so deep you never want to resurface? It was all and none of those things; reality crushing fantasy with one swift and unparalleled blow. There was nothing but Edward in that moment: his lips, his tongue, his breath, his moans; his soft skin and rough stubble and masculine bones beneath my grateful fingers. Should I have been scared at the troth that passed through my mind at that moment? "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder." But this was what I felt in that first union: irrevocably joined with this man, by a force much stronger than I am.

And this was only from a kiss.

I couldn't stop staring at his lips after he pulled back, panting. They glistened, ripe and red, like maraschino cherries. I immediately wanted to taste them again, to pull that bottom lip between my own and suck on it.

When I finally raised my eyes to his, I saw a raw urgency there that should have frightened me a little. I had been longing to awaken the primal part of him that I'd always suspected lay dormant inside; but when I was face-to-face with the fire, I was still taken aback by its heat. Was I ready to be consumed by him? That was the danger I feared: not Edward himself, but the sway he held over me, and my overwhelming desire to give in.

It seemed that it was my turn to calm him, if I wasn't quite ready for total surrender. I stroked his face softly, my fingers fascinated with the sandpaper sprouting from his relentless follicles. I smiled and told him that his cure had worked - the pain in my knee was gone. His breathing slowed and a smile came as the fire cooled. I was immediately sorry to see it go, and wondered when and how I could ignite the embers again.

He seemed as reluctant to take me back to my car as I was to go there. He suggested drying my clothes at his place, which sent me on yet another orbit into the stratosphere. I could barely speak during the drive there. I kept imagining him undressing me, slowly removing each article of wet clothing and replacing it with his warm hands and mouth.

I was nudged slowly out of my reverie by the realization that we were entering the industrial district of Seattle, "SoDo" as they call it, passing belching smokestacks and yawning warehouses as we drove. I started wondering where in the heck Edward lived, anyway.

As it turns out, he's not all that far from Pioneer square, in the top floor of a rather stylish-looking brick building that has been in his mother's family for years. He has a bachelor pad that would be the envy of most guys, open and spacious, with no one around to complain if you play the stereo too loud. The décor is simple, clean and masculine, and his music collection is to die for. You'd freak if you saw it, Mom. Maybe you already have, from where you're sitting.

Once I set foot in Edward's place, I never wanted to leave. I even fell in love with his cat, Lucky. A gorgeous orange tabby, he took a shine to me right away, as most cats do. Edward pretended to be jealous as I stroked Lucky's fur while he lolled contentedly at my feet. But when I looked up at Edward, his expression was dead serious and strangely intense. He quickly mumbled something about getting me some clothes to wear while mine were in the dryer, and then disappeared.

When he returned, he showed me to the bathroom so that I could change, dispelling my earlier fantasies about him undressing me. Curiosity quickly replaced disappointment as I took in the details of the room, from the nautical décor to the navy-trimmed white towels and matching bath rugs. I bit my lip as I looked in the medicine cabinet mirror, dismayed at my bedraggled appearance, but more interested in opening the cabinet door to inspect its contents.

I'm not proud of it, but I did it. I snooped. I had to see what brand of shaving cream and deodorant and toothpaste he used, what kind of razor, what sorts of stomach- and head-ache remedies he preferred. I gently fingered the bottles as if they contained frankincense and myrrh instead of aspirin and antacid. There was no detail about Edward that I wasn't itching to know.

I opened the bottle of after-shave I found on the counter and sniffed the familiar scent, stronger here than on his rain-soaked face, but still fresh-smelling, not heavy and cloying. Did he have to do everything right? I was beginning to look for just one thing that would make me cringe, to remind myself that he was real and attainable, not some mythical creature who might disappear at my first wrong move.

I turned to the clothes he'd given me to put on, a typically non-descript over-washed t-shirt and sweats. I buried my face in the material and breathed deeply, enjoying the faint mixture of fabric sheets and Edward that tickled my nose. The clothes were clean, but somehow his scent lingered there, intoxicating me. I peeled off my wet garments and grabbed his shower towel, hoping it was the one he'd used that morning. I inhaled deeply again, letting his essence fill my lungs and feeling not one bit guilty as I did so.

I then slowly, methodically dried every inch of my skin with his towel. Wave after wave of goose bumps rose at the thought of this very fabric caressing his naked body hours ago. My cheeks grew hot as a wicked thought entered my brain, then flamed red as I acted upon it. I pressed the towel between my legs and rubbed it back and forth, letting it arouse me further as it soaked up the creamy evidence. Even though he would never know I had left this part of me there with him, I would.

I donned his clothes finally with reverence, loving the way they softly enveloped me. Had he picked a thin white t-shirt on purpose? My nipples were easy to see through the flimsy fabric, and they were still erect from my erotic adventure with Edward's towel. I already knew that one word, one kiss, would keep me here with him for hours, Jake and his band be damned.

I felt suddenly embarrassed at my behavior as I left the bathroom. Edward eyed me awkwardly as well, his eyes unsurprisingly fixated on my breasts. The sexual tension between us was getting almost comical at this point. When he hastily grabbed my discarded clothes and disappeared with them, I wondered if he would fondle them before putting them in the dryer, the way I had practically masturbated with his towel. We were ridiculous.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and began to peruse his music collection. I love that he owns vinyl records - a lot of the same ones I have that were yours. More and more, it seemed like fate had led me here, although I certainly wished there had been a less painful way than throwing my back out to do it.

When Edward returned, I begged him to show me his guitars. When I discovered that he actually has a baby grand piano in that massive loft of his, I nearly creamed myself again. And that was nothing to the reaction I had when he actually sat down and played that gorgeous instrument.

He chose another song I love. He sang it to me as I sat next to him on the piano bench, and it was so profoundly beautiful that I nearly wept. I felt as close to him, as trusting, as I had earlier in the afternoon when I told him about you. Obtuse as he is, he tried to apologize for making me cry. I told him he doesn't know what he does to me. Whatever he thinks he knows feels like only the tip of the iceberg. He tried to tell me I have it backwards, when clearly I don't. Because when it came time to put those feelings into practice, he backed off.

I actually asked him to kiss me. I could barely utter the words, but my need was so palpable, I couldn't help but beg. He said that he was afraid that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. Didn't he understand that I didn't want him to stop? My body, my mind, my heart were all screaming "go."

Edward said "stop."

At least, he may as well have. He brought up Jake again. Jake, who had barely entered my mind all day; Jake, who is inconsequential in relation to my feelings for Edward. Why dinner with an old friend annoyed Edward so much is beyond me, especially when I made it clear all afternoon who I wanted to spend more time with. If Edward was that jealous or upset over Jake, then why not kiss me and claim me? He could have hoisted me up on the piano and fucked me then and there, Pretty-Woman-style, and I would have loved every minute of it.

Instead, he pointed out that I didn't have that much time to get ready for my "date" with Jake. I got the message, loud and clear. The problem was, I couldn't make any sense of it. His mixed signals were really starting to confuse me and wear on my nerves. As he drove me back to the office where my car was parked, I listened to "Doctor" Cullen make small talk in that politely detached tone of his that now made me want to scratch his gorgeous green eyes out. I couldn't figure it out what went wrong. What was he so afraid of? It couldn't be the doctor/patient thing standing in our way anymore. Surely he knew I would never report him, and no one needed to be the wiser.

I remembered what Rosalie said: that there was fear in Edward's eyes. I had seen it too, lurking, sometimes spilling out when he let his guard down. Who had hurt him? Did it have something to do with the "painful events" that Alice and Emmett had hinted at? He still hadn't even told me about his waylaid plans to be a doctor, let alone allude to any other past disappointments. I had bared my soul to him about you, as much as I could, anyway. When would he have that same kind of trust in me?

I took one last stab at making him see that he could. I asked him to meet me later that night, after the "work" part of my evening was done. He insisted on using my non-date with Jake as his excuse and his shield. I finally snapped and told him that I wasn't the one who had hurt him in the past, and that if he wanted to stop treating me like I was, he knew where to find me.

I was shaking as I got in my car. Shaking and crying. All day Edward and I had seemed to be standing on the brink of something incredible together, and then he pulled the rug out from under me. I couldn't believe it.

I was glad that Angela was spending the weekend at Ben's, because I didn't want to rehash everything that was so right and then suddenly wrong with my almost-perfect day. Yet I couldn't stop the tears from flowing again as I stood in the shower, washing all evidence of Edward's touch and smell from my body, save for the plastic bandage stuck to my knee. I refused to remove that, no matter how wet it got. I shaved carefully around it as if it were a shrine. I cursed Edward Cullen for making me worship a fucking Band-Aid. Maybe being mad at him would be easier than being sad.

I put that philosophy into practice as I stormed around the house, getting ready. I ransacked the closet, trying to find something both funky but a little dressier than usual, since Java Noise VP's Mark and Sam would be there. It's not like there's really a dress code at our little label, but it never hurts to try to look a little more polished around the higher-ups.

I finally settled on a fitted menswear-style jacket over my v-necked tee and skinny jeans. I tried not to think of how Edward's white t-shirt would have looked great with this ensemble. I dressed the outfit up with a little more silver jewelry than I normally wear, then dressed it down with my favorite fire-engine red Converse high-tops. I knew Rosalie would be wearing a similar outfit but with mile-high stacked heels, a concession to fashion I was not quite willing to make.

I spent a little extra time on my hair, not because I necessarily wanted to, but because Jake wasn't due at my door for another ten minutes and I needed to keep my hands busy. If I stopped and sat down for a minute, I knew I would lose it. By the time the doorbell rang, my hair was large and in charge. I tried to tame it a bit, but it only got wilder the more I played with it. I gave up, grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

"Hey, babe. You look slammin'!" Jake exclaimed as I opened the door. The sight of his big, toothy grin was a relief. His easy warmth was just what I needed to settle me down and take my mind off of Edward. "You ready for an amazing evening?"

"You know what? I am," I smiled as I took his arm.

We went for Italian this time, and I ordered a nice, soothing plate of fattening spinach ravioli. I intended to take comfort wherever I could find it tonight. I concentrated on paying attention to Jake this time, and felt myself getting swept up in his excitement once again as we looked forward to his band's big evening. I told him a little more about what to expect if our company offered them a deal, and asked if he and the guys had made any progress in retaining some professional representation. I was grateful to get lost in "shop talk" for awhile, a place where I felt like I had a little control and expertise.

When we got to The Rusty Nail, Rosalie and Emmett were already there, as were most of the Wolf Pack members. Jake went to help his bandmates finish the final set-up onstage as I headed to the table my boss and her date had reserved. To my utter shock, she was sitting on his lap, her arm draped around his shoulders, her head bowed as she grinned and whispered something to him. She certainly looked cozy with the guy that she had reamed up one side and down the other only a week ago. She also looked a little disheveled and her cheeks were glowing. My eyes narrowed at her suspiciously as I approached.

"Hi Rose, Emmett," I called cheerfully, trying not to let my current frustration with Edward have any bearing on my interaction with his brother.

"Bella!" he boomed with characteristic enthusiasm. "How's it going?"

"Great," I lied. "And you?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he grinned, his arms wrapping around Rosalie and giving her a squeeze.

"Get your hands off my ass," she growled at him.

"My hands aren't on your ass, beautiful. You'll know when they are."

Rose made a big show of extricating herself from Emmett's bear hug, smacking his broad hands away, when clearly she had no wish to go anywhere. Likewise, Emmett pretended to be wounded by her harmless slaps, when he probably enjoyed every one of them. They made an odd, yet somehow perfect pair. Was I stupid to wish for the same with Edward?

"I need to talk to Bella minute. Could you be a darling and go get us a pitcher?" Rose intoned sweetly as she rose from Emmett's lap.

Emmett took an exaggerated breath. "Of course, sugarplum. I'll be right back." I didn't miss the smack he gave her on the ass as he passed. She gasped and gave him a dirty look, which he roundly ignored.

"God, he makes me crazy," she grunted, her eyes blazing with what looked like both irritation and lust as she watched his muscular backside saunter up to the bar. "I almost boned him outside the bar in that hideous pimpmobile of his. I don't know what it is about him - he kissed me and I just lost it. Fucker," she sighed.

_Boy, I can relate, _I thought. I was still startled when Rosalie confided in me like this, as if we were college besties instead of an employer and employee. I kind of liked it, though.

"How was your afternoon with Edward?" she asked as we took seats across from each other at the table. "I know you were hoping for big things. So… how big were they?" She wiggled her eyebrow suggestively.

I let out a rueful laugh. "I'm not privy to that information yet. Maybe never, the way things are going."

Rose frowned. "I can tell he's into you. Did he freak out at the last minute or something?"

My eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yeah, something like that. Things were going really well… almost too well. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it did."

Rose shook her head. "I don't know what kind of baggage he's carrying around, but it seems like it's an awfully heavy load. Are you sure you want to deal with it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I sighed. "I just wish he would let me. Emmett hasn't said anything about that, has he?"

"No, he hasn't. We really didn't talk much about Edward; just in passing, when he was telling me about his family. We haven't gotten to the deep, dark secrets phase of our relationship yet." She stopped and made a ghastly face. "Good God, did I just say the word 'relationship,' in reference to the Hulk?"

We both watched Emmett heading our direction, the pitcher and extra glass for me looking positively dainty in his capable hands. I giggled and said, "I'm pretty sure you did, Rose. Don't look now, here comes your boyfriend."

"Shut up," she hissed, whacking me on the arm.

Emmett made a tut-tut noise as he approached. "So she hits you too, huh? The girl has an anger management problem. I have a few methods that I think would cure her, though," he winked at me.

"You just keep your methods to yourself, doctor," she advised as he settled into the seat next to hers.

Their banter was cut short by the arrival of Sam Uley, the Wolf Pack's lead singer. After checking in with the band, he came and sat with us for a moment to go over the set list. The band had moved a few things around so that some of their more popular numbers would be in the first set, when our A&R and product development VP's would be listening. They could always throw in a few covers in the second set, after the crowd had had a few drinks and would be more forgiving.

The ears of Mark Durham and Sam Watson must have been burning, because they arrived at the Rusty Nail right as Sam was about to rejoin his band on stage for a quick mic check. Instead, Rose and I introduced him to our bosses. He motioned for the rest of the Wolf Pack to join us, and we all settled in to talk a little business.

Emmett listened with interest as our VP's discussed what they were looking for and what they would expect from the band if they agreed to sign with us. Mark and Sam are both forty-ish men who cut their teeth in the Seattle music business during the grunge movement of the early nineties. Mark had been the bassist in a modestly successful band, while Sam had worked in tour management before switching to a job that would require less traveling. Between them, they've experienced both sides of the talent/management coin, and always try to work out a deal that suits both parties. I was confident that The Wolf Pack would be happy with our company, because we really go the extra mile to do artists justice in the studio and promote them in the most effective way possible.

As I glanced at Emmett, I couldn't help but think that his brother was the one who should be here now, listening to the things we could offer him. Edward is such a unique talent, I know he could find an audience who would appreciate him the way I do. I wondered if Emmett would pass on his newfound knowledge about our company to Edward. Did they even talk about things like this? Edward seems to be closer to Alice than to Emmett. I can imagine the Cullen brothers butting heads often over their different approaches, much like they did the day I met them.

After our impromptu little meeting ended, everyone rose from the table to shake hands and wish the band good luck. Jake found me and whispered, "I'm really glad these guys are here, but I gotta say, I'm nervous as hell."

"I know," I sympathized. "But just try to put the nervousness to good use and channel it into your playing. Just give it a hundred-and-ten percent. You've got nothing to lose."

"I don't know. The stakes are pretty big here. Bigger than we're used to, anyway," he said, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Jake, by the time these guys come listen to you, they're already interested. They've heard the demo. I know you can blow that away with your live performance, because you have every time I've seen you. I believe in you. You're going to be great," I said emphatically.

Jacob's dark eyes looked intensely into mine. "Thanks, Bells. I couldn't have done this without you."

Suddenly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek, precariously close to my mouth. I barely had time to gasp as he whispered, "Wish me luck," and bounded up to the stage.

I glanced quickly around our table to see if anyone had noticed. When my eyes found Rosalie's, she lifted one eyebrow inquisitively at me. Shit. It was only a kiss on the cheek, right? Like friends give each other. I hated the thought that Edward might be right, and Jake hadn't taken our little speech to heart.

I kept my composure and slid into the chair next to Rose, grateful for the glass of frothy lager that Emmett had just poured for me. I was beginning to feel like I'd need it. Still, I nursed it slowly during the first set, wary of letting the higher-ups see me drinking too much. I didn't want to do or say anything stupid with my reputation on the line.

The Wolf Pack was completely on point, with an almost hyper-kinetic energy that got the crowd going early on. By the time they finished their blistering set an hour later, wild cheering reverberated around the club. They had more than convinced our VP's, who had been nodding and commenting to each other throughout the show. Afterward, Mark and Sam asked Rose to escort them backstage to see the band, and I was both nervous and excited about what was about to go down.

That left Emmett and I alone at the table, which suddenly seemed awkward in light of what had happened earlier that day with his brother. He, of course, was none the wiser.

"So what's the deal here, Bella? You don't get to be in on the powwow backstage?"

"Well, at this point I'm technically still Rosalie's assistant," I explained. "She's the one who will get credit for signing the band. But I know she'll have my back, and give me props for finding them. It's fine. I've got to pay my dues like everyone else," I shrugged.

"Well, you're a lot more understanding than I would be," Emmett commented as he emptied the last dregs of the pitcher between our two glasses. When he flagged down a waitress to order more, I excused myself to go to the ladies' room at the back of the club.

I sat on the stool for a moment, jeans around my knees, absently picking at the puckered bandage still stuck to my right knee. Why did Edward always have to be right about everything? I saw it in Jake's eyes right before he gave me that stealth peck on the cheek: that undeniable hunger. No, no, no. I didn't want that from him. When Edward had given me that look, I had been elated. Coming from Jake, I felt only a vague dread deep in my gut. Someday I would have to nip this in the bud, once again.

Déjà vu gripped me as I thought, what if that's what Edward had done with me tonight? No, that wasn't possible. Too many things were said and done that told me my feelings for him were reciprocal. Something else was driving him away from me. I just wish I knew if it had anything at all to do with me. It would help if I knew what I was up against.

I pulled up my jeans and exited the stall, then checked myself in the mirror as I washed my hands. The girl standing next to me was running her hands over her ironed hair, making sure it hung in a perfect curtain down her front. By contrast, my wild waves had drooped a bit, but still looked as if a nest of baby squirrels might be living somewhere in the mess. I rifled through my handbag, looking for a brush, but came up empty. I sighed and tried finger-combing it a bit, then admitted defeat and slathered a thin coat of lip gloss on before heading out the door.

The club was jammed with people by now, and a long line had formed to the ladies' room. I felt a little bad that I had taken a short sabbatical in my stall. Just as I pushed my way through the queue, I stepped into the path of someone heading for the bar, and we nearly collided.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I stopped short and glanced up at his face. He was nice-looking, with a blond ponytail and piercing blue eyes. But his features barely registered with me as my eyes drifted over his shoulder to the man towering behind him. His bronze hair was shaggy and disheveled, which I knew must be from his inability to keep his hands out of it. He gave me a heavy-lidded, jade-green stare as his cherry lips curled slowly into an amused smirk. The smell of whiskey and beer rolled off of him and his friend in waves as they stood leering down at me.

"Well hello, Miss Swan," slurred Edward Cullen. "Fancy meeting you here."

* * *

***bracing self for onslaught of rotten tomatoes* I know, I know. What a place to stop. Try not to hate me too much. Hopefully part 2 will make it worth your while. :)**


	15. Vertigo, part 2

**I'm beginning to think this chapter may go on forever. Hopefully that's in a good way, not a bad way.**

**Bella's still not finished, but I am, for the moment. Without further ado, part 2.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Friday, August 8 (cont'd.)**

"Edward," I exclaimed, a tiny thrill shooting through me despite his obviously inebriated state. "I didn't think you were going to show."

"Surprise," he said in a rather caustic tone. It sounded almost like an accusation. But of what?

My excitement sputtered slightly, then fizzled as I looked uneasily at his skeevy-looking friend. The way he kept eye-balling me gave me the heebie-jeebies. I stared back at Edward, itching to slap the stupid hazy grin off of his face. I couldn't decide if he looked like an idiot, or sexy as hell. Maybe both.

"So this is her?" the ponytail guy asked, pointing the bottleneck of his beer back and forth between me and Edward. He made the question sound more like a statement, as if he already knew who I was. I immediately wondered what Edward had told him about me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, please excuse my rudeness," Edward replied with exaggerated politeness. He was so sloshed that everything coming out of his mouth seemed to smack of sarcasm. "This is Isabella Swan, my favorite client. Isabella, this is James Lawrence, an old drinking buddy of mine from college."

"Clearly," I muttered to the drunks, begrudgingly holding my hand out to shake James'. He took it and brought it to his lips for a kiss instead. I fought the urge to wipe the back of my hand on my jacket as soon as he released it. He was slimy. That was the only word for him. He was the kind of guy I'd always avoided when I was in college myself. The kind of guy I avoided now, for that matter. I couldn't believe this was an example of the sort of people Edward used to hang out with.

"She's cute," James shrugged, taking a sloppy swig of his beer. "Not really your type, but you know, it's been awhile. Maybe your type has changed."

I glared up at Edward, getting more irritated with him by the second. How could he stand there and let this jerk talk about me like I wasn't even there? Worse yet, he was back to calling me by my full name, as if I were on trial and he were the judge. That was pretty rich, considering he should be the one feeling guilty right now.

"How much have you had to drink?" I demanded. It wasn't even 10:30 yet.

"How much have we had, Edward?" James mused. They snickered at one another like kids who'd just been caught raiding the cookie jar.

"Not that much," Edward scoffed. "But I guess it depends on your definition of 'too much.' Is a fifth of whiskey too much, Miss Swan?"

I definitely wanted to slap him now.

"Well, apparently it's not enough, since you still remember her name," James replied with a derisive laugh. His words knocked the wind out of me and I staggered back.

"That's enough," Edward ordered, raising his arm in front of James's chest, as if to keep him away from me.

I turned my disbelieving eyes on him. "What the hell have you been saying about me?" I demanded, stunned that Edward would be talking about me behind my back, especially with someone I didn't even know.

"Nothing. He's just being an asshole," Edward tried to placate me as he gave James a warning look.

"Oh, _he's _being an asshole? Glad you cleared that up for me," I retorted.

"At least he's not macking on other girls right in front of your face," James accused.

"That's enough!" Edward repeated, his voice now a menacing snarl as he glared at his friend.

I gaped at them in undisguised shock. What the hell was James talking about? The only thing I could think of was that he and Edward had witnessed the kiss Jake had given me, and that had been over an hour ago, before the band even began playing. As understanding dawned, I could feel rage begin to bubble deep in my veins.

"Have you been sitting back here spying on me all night?" I exclaimed, giving Edward a look of utter disbelief. That kind of behavior seemed so beneath him, I couldn't wrap my mind around the thought of him stooping that low.

James, however, was another story. My eyes narrowed at him as he continued to spew his vitriol. "I wouldn't call it spying," he said with a smirk. "More like a general observation. I mean, you are in a public place, where anyone can see your little band-boy slobbering on you."

I shook my head, still barely able to comprehend what was happening. I looked up at Edward's guilty, impotent face and truly wanted to smack some sense into him. I'd never felt so close to committing physical violence before, but I wanted to in the worst way right now.

"I can't believe you," I unloaded on him at last, trying to keep my voice from quivering. "I've been sitting up there with my bosses and _your brother _this whole time, and you never even bothered to say hello? Let alone come sit with us, like a normal person would. Instead you're hiding back here, getting bombed off your ass? Unbelievable. You are seriously fucked in the head, Edward."

He looked like he was about to protest, so I quickly cut him off. "Speaking of your brother, I'm sure he's wondering where I am right now. So unless you want him to come looking for me, I'm going back to our table and try to pretend I never even saw you here."

I spun on my heels and took off for the front of the club before the tears could come, and before Edward could stop me. Would he even try? He was too hammered to catch me anyway, I thought bitterly as I stormed off.

Wrong, on all counts. I felt his hand close around my arm, gentle but firm, yanking me to a halt. And one blasted tear was already streaking down my face as he turned me around to face him.

"Bella, please. I need to talk to you." He was using the Masseur Voice now: low, calm, persuasive. Even swimming in alcohol, his eyes managed to penetrate all my angry defenses and pierce my soul.

"About what?" I spat, trying to keep my anger on full boil.

"Everything," he answered simply. He looked serious. As serious as a completely smashed individual can be, anyway.

And just like that, I felt my furor reduce down to a low simmer. I'd been trying to get Edward to open up since I met him. If it took a gallon of booze to loosen his tongue, then so be it.

"Come sit with us. Talk to me," I offered.

He shook his head, frowning. "No, I don't want to embarrass you in front of your colleagues. That's why I've been staying out of your way."

"Then why did you get so wasted?" I said with an exasperated sigh.

"Because I'm seriously fucked in the head." Repeating my words seemed like an act of contrition, an admission that I was right. His eyes were plaintive. "Come outside with me for a minute."

I shook my head. "My bosses are backstage with the band right now. I need to be here when they come back."

"It'll only take a couple of minutes, I promise."

I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But behind the alcoholic fog, there was a desperation in his eyes that I could not ignore. It called to me like a siren, and I knew I had to answer the call.

"Let me go find out what's going on. I'll make an excuse and meet you outside in a few minutes," I begrudgingly agreed.

He leaned in close to me, his hand resting on my collarbone, and my heart raced accordingly. "Thank you," he whispered. His lips brushed the delicate bones of my ear, sending a surge of endorphins flooding through my body.

I tore my eyes from his heavy gaze and shakily made my way back to the front of the club. As luck would have it, Rosalie, Mark and Sam were emerging from the backstage area at the same time, and we all converged at the table. Their satisfied smiles told me that The Wolf Pack becoming the newest client on our roster was practically a done deal.

"You've got some very happy friends back there, Bella," Rose beamed at me. "You might want to go congratulate them."

"Oh my God, that's awesome!" I exclaimed, relieved to hear some good news. "You won't be sorry," I told Mark and Sam. "I've known these guys a long time, and their work ethic is second to none."

"I've seen enough to know that," Mark grinned, looking a little nostalgic. "The raw material is there. We can do the rest and let them concentrate on harnessing that energy we just saw. Nice find, Bella."

"Thanks," I said, blushing modestly. After all, how hard was it to "find" a talented group of guys you'd grown up with?

"This calls for a toast," Emmett declared, refilling all of our glasses from the pitcher he'd just ordered.

"To Bella and Rosalie," Mark said, raising his beer.

"To The Wolf Pack," I suggested instead as I lifted my glass.

"And Java Noise," Rosalie smiled.

Everyone touched glasses and took a hefty gulp. Emmett winked at me and then gazed at Rosalie, clearly smitten. She smiled seductively back at him, happy to be in her element, closing another successful deal. I had the feeling Emmett was going to get lucky tonight. And all things considered, I thought Rosalie was pretty lucky, too. I wished Edward could have a fraction of Emmett's open candor.

"Why don't you go backstage and see the guys?" Rose suggested. "They're celebrating pretty heavily, so I hope they're sober enough to do their second set," she laughed.

"I can imagine," I smiled. I wasn't sure if I could deal with any more inebriated males tonight, but I figured I'd better make an appearance before the band went back onstage. Besides, I was truly excited for them, and glad they were joining our label. I'd deal with Jake's infatuation later.

Sam guided me to the backstage area, where I was greeted by a champagne-soaked Jake the minute he saw me.

"Bells!" he hollered, rushing up and grabbing me in his muscular arms. "You heard the good news?"

"I did," I grinned. "Congratulations! I'm not surprised though. I knew they'd love you."

Jake whirled me around a couple of times and I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "We couldn't have done it without you," he said as he finally set me down. "Thanks for going to bat for us. I won't forget it."

I couldn't quite meet his eyes as they grew serious. "Well, you'd better not. The hard part is just beginning, you know. Recording a CD, promoting, touring, fighting off groupies," I joked.

"Are you kidding? That's like a vacation, all of it!" he laughed. "Besides, you're going to be with us for all of it, right?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, you'll be working with a lot of other people, but Rose and I will still be kind of overseeing everything and helping to promote you. We aren't going to disappear or anything."

"I can't wait," he grinned, his eyes shining with excitement and a little something else that made me uneasy.

"Me neither," I said a little less buoyantly. I was beginning to fear that he was coming in for another kiss. I was grateful when the rest of the Wolf Pack interrupted us to tell me thanks for getting their feet in the door. I congratulated them all and glanced surreptitiously at my watch, wondering how long Edward would wait for me.

The band was due back onstage shortly, and they excused themselves to get ready. As Jake tried to corner me again, I noticed a red "exit" sign over his shoulder on the far wall.

"I need to call Angela and I can't get any reception in here," I fibbed, gesturing toward the door behind him. "I want you guys to kill it out there, okay?"

"You know it," Jake grinned. He pulled me in a quick hug but nothing more, then released me and bounded back toward the stage. I sighed with relief and zoomed toward the side door, hoping it was unlocked. It opened easily and I walked out into the summer night, enjoying the warmth that still lingered under the moonless sky.

I peered around in the dark, trying to take in my surroundings. The door had opened into a narrow alleyway between the club and its restaurant neighbor. The rank aroma of a dumpster to my left sent me wandering off in the other direction, toward the road, where a single street lamp cast circle of illumination on the pavement below. Silhouetted in its backlight was a tall, lanky figure leaning against the side of the building. I watched as he raised one hand to his face, creating a tiny red glow that flickered and then dimmed. The burning tip of a cigarette, I realized. As I drew closer, I recognized the lean lines of his long torso and limbs; the disarray of his hair.

"Edward?" I whispered.

He turned toward me, but I couldn't quite see his face in the dark. I approached him slowly, sure it was him, but still wary in case my senses were wrong.

"Bella?" he replied, his velvet voice sounding as surprised as mine did. He had been looking for me in the direction of the front sidewalk, not the back door.

"I'm sorry I took so long," I apologized, though I wasn't certain he deserved an apology. "The band's getting signed. I just came from congratulating them backstage." I motioned to the side entrance in explanation.

He nodded and took another drag from his cigarette. "That's great. I'm happy for you."

I stepped closer, moving around so that I could see him better in the street light. Its pale blue rays carved his face into an architecture of perfect masculine beauty.

"Did he kiss you again?" Edward asked. His eyes were hard to read in the low light, but the annoyance in his voice was impossible to miss.

"No. And if he had, I would have turned my head."

He took another puff from his cigarette. I hate smoking. I especially hated how sexy he was making it look right now.

"I was right about him. He's not giving up." Edward exhaled loudly, turning his head to blow the putrid smoke away from my face.

"It doesn't matter what he wants. I told you what _I_ want. Now it's your turn," I said, throwing the ball in his court. I stared at him relentlessly until his gaze faltered and fell. He frowned down at his fingers, where his cigarette had burned down to ash. He dropped the butt, squashed it quickly with his black leather boot, and fumbled around in his pocket for another. It was clear that he was using his effort to light up again as an excuse to ignore my challenge.

"You're smoking," I observed, trying not to make it sound like a judgment. "Since when do you smoke?"

He studied me, perhaps trying to discern my feelings on the subject. Or possibly he was just trying to stay awake and upright.

"Since high school," he said flatly, unapologetically. He put a fresh cancer stick to his lips and set a butane lighter flame to the tip, inhaling deeply.

I felt my irritation returning. "You wanted to talk to me. So talk."

He twiddled the cigarette between his long fingers, then put it to his mouth again. He was nervous, although I wasn't sure how he could be, as pickled as he was. Finally, he settled his skittish eyes on mine. They were luminous blue-green liquid in the street light.

"I had a great time with you today, and I'm sorry I fucked it up," he said. His free hand reached for his hair and found its comfort, fingers burrowing, hiding. I waited patiently, knowing more was coming. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I'm sorry that I've been using lame excuses to keep you at a distance, when I'm the one who's too much of a chicken-shit to let you in. I'm sorry that I pushed you away instead of facing my feelings for you. And I'm sorry that I wasted my time with a jackass like James tonight when I should have done the right thing by you instead."

Were my ears ringing? I stared at him, dumbfounded. His string of honest declarations nearly flattened me. I would have been a lot more impressed if he hadn't needed so much liquid courage to say them, but I figured we had to start somewhere.

His expression grew pensive as he waited for my reaction. I let him sweat a little longer, until his brows furrowed and he turned his attention to his cigarette again.

"I accept your apology," I finally relented. When he looked back into my eyes again, I asked him, "Now, what are you going to do to make it up to me?"

He blinked at me a couple of times, and I realized he was probably trying very hard to focus. I raised an eyebrow at him and gave him the kind of suggestive look he was so good at. He exhaled in relief as a slow grin crept across his gorgeous mug. "I can think of several things. Quite a few, actually."

"I'll bet you can. Whether or not you're able to act on them at the moment is another story," I teased. By the looks of him, I figured he was about an hour away from passing out entirely unless I could get some good, strong coffee into him.

"Oh, I might surprise you, Miss Swan. In the past, I have proven to possess some fairly impressive skills, even while intoxicated," he leered down at me.

"Well, it's pretty impressive that you just uttered the word 'intoxicated' without slurring, I'll give you that."

"I want you to give me a lot more than that," he murmured. He was leaning closer, venting a cloud of boozy smoke all over me, yet my body still instinctively stretched up toward his, yearning for his kiss. His face blurred as his lips came closer, and I could taste every evil he'd consumed this evening as I inhaled his breath. I made an involuntary face, then quickly placed my fingers over his beautiful lips before they touched mine.

"Huh-uh," I refused him. "I'm still pissed at you for stalking me all night. That was despicably low, not to mention, immature. You're going to have to work for my forgiveness for that one."

He scowled petulantly. "I didn't plan to spy on you. I didn't even intend to come here. I called James because I just wanted to get drunk and forget everything for awhile, and he happens to be excellent in that capacity, if nothing else. We started off at a different pub, throwing back shots and chasers. He finally got me to admit what I was trying to escape from. Next thing I knew, he was getting a cab and dragging my ass here.

"Literally, the first thing I saw when I walked in the door was MonkeyBoy laying one on you, and I just… I don't know. I wanted to punch that big fucking Ultra-Brite smile right off his face. I didn't want to stay, but I couldn't bring myself to leave, because you were here. I knew I was in no shape to meet your bosses, so I just sat and drank some more."

I tried not to smile at the fact that he felt compelled to stay because of me, and that he referred to Jake as "MonkeyBoy."

He shook his head and stared at me dolefully. "You know how when you're drinking, you just keep thinking that one more will finally drown everything out, but it doesn't, so you have another…and then another…?"

"Edward," I sighed softly, reaching up to smooth the worried wrinkles from his brow. "I don't have to tell you that doesn't work. You can escape a lot of things, but you can never escape yourself."

His eyes probed mine, the one lucid part of him that remained searching for something there. He looked tired. The lamplight etched shadows under his eyes that looked deeper than usual.

"I think you should get out of here and sleep it off. We can talk about all of this tomorrow," I suggested. I began walking toward the front of the club, holding my hand out to him to follow.

"I'm fine," he protested, sounding a little like a kid complaining that he was being sent to bed early. He grabbed my hand and began weaving clumsily, his feet unable to walk a straight line. "Wait, lemme finish this," he mumbled, stopping short and sucking on the dregs of his cigarette as if the nicotine were his lifeline.

"You're being ridiculous," I told him, grabbing the stub out of his hand and tossing it to the alleyway. He gaped at me a moment, a child whose favorite toy had just been taken away.

"Now who's being bossy?" he exclaimed, a slow smirk forming. "You're right - it is sexy. Tell me what to do some more. Tell me what you like." He rubbed his thumb suggestively along the inside of my palm, and just like that, the child's play was gone.

"Come on," I sighed, pretending to be highly irritated with him. In reality, a slow burn was beginning in my nether regions. I gave his hand a yank as I made my way toward the sidewalk again.

"Yes, mistress Swan," he continued in that insane Sex Voice of his. How he managed to find and unleash it through all the booze was beyond me. "You have handcuffs in that handbag, by any chance?"

"You wish," I shot back over my shoulder. He stumbled along after me, giggling like a schoolgirl. As we rounded the corner, Edward managed to trip on a crack in the pavement and nearly went down, then began giggling anew.

"Jesus Christ," I swore, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him upright. "Do you want me to have to bandage you up like you did for me earlier?"

He smiled down at me. "I think I'd like that. I think you'd take good care of me."

I wished he'd stop shooting all those little arrows straight through my heart. He still had perfect aim, even when he was seeing double.

"I think I'm going to have to," I sighed. "I'm worried about you getting home in one piece tonight. I think you should stay at my place so I can keep an eye on you."

That startled him into a second or two of sobriety before the mischief stole over his face again. "What will your roommate have to say about that? Is she into threesomes?"

"Angela is staying at her boyfriend Ben's this weekend. And you'll be staying on my couch," I added immediately, before he could get in another crack.

"Naturally," he agreed, though he sounded smug and expectant. I thought to myself that even if he did end up in my bed, he'd black out before he could lay a hand on me. What a shame.

I dug the cell phone out of my bag and dialed my usual cab company. I gave them the address while Edward leaned lazily on the railing outside the front door, grinning at me. The monstrous bouncer eyed Edward's drunken posture suspiciously.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," I told the guy as I grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him toward the front door, practically daring the doorman to separate us. Monster Bouncer rolled his eyes a bit as he checked our admission stamps and let us re-enter the club.

When I glanced up at Edward, he looked highly amused. "I like Bossy Bella. Very take-charge. I'm impressed. And more than a little turned on." He grinned down at me, letting his heavy-lidded gaze settle on the non-existent cleavage of my v-neck shirt. I hoped he wasn't a boob man, because he was sure to be sorely disappointed.

"Slow your roll, dude," I said, making him giggle again. "I'm going to go make up an excuse to everyone. I'll tell them I have a minor roommate emergency or something. You can come with me, if you'd like to say 'hi' to your brother," I added acidly.

"I'll take a pass, thanks. I have enough problems without getting an ass-kicking too."

"Which you kind of deserve," I couldn't help but add as I turned to go.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be hurting enough tomorrow without it," he sighed. "I'll find James and let him know I'm leaving, then meet you by the door."

I nodded and headed to the front of the club, where the band was still jamming. A large crowd was gathered in front of the stage, dancing and cheering. I found Rose and Emmett cuddled together at their table, looking quite cozy and very much alone. They didn't even see me until I was practically on top of them.

"Did Mark and Sam leave?" I yelled over the music to Rosalie when I got within earshot.

"Yeah, they did. No worries, though, they left right after you went backstage. Where the hell have you been? We were about to start combing the bar for you."

"Angela called while I was backstage - she had a fight with her boyfriend. I had to go outside so I could talk on my cell. She's pretty upset, so I'm heading home early. Give my apologies to the band, would you?" I felt a little guilty leaving Rosalie holding the bag. I looked at my watch and was a relieved to see that the band's set probably wouldn't last too much longer.

"Sure, no problem," she smiled. Emmett nodded and waved good night over the din. I was glad that I didn't have to explain anything to him. I felt guilty making up lies to cover for Edward's behavior, but I couldn't bear to send him off alone in a cab in his condition.

I searched room for James, as much as I hated to see him again. I finally found him at the bar, chatting up a heavily-painted blonde with massive cleavage spilling over her tight top. Edward was nowhere around. I looked by the front door, but he wasn't there either.

I swallowed the bile that rose in my stomach as I approached, then tapped him on the shoulder. He swung around, his ponytail brushing against my hand and sending a wave of revulsion through me.

"Well if it isn't the lucky lady who's taking Edward home tonight," he said sardonically.

I ignored his innuendo and asked, "Have you seen him?"

"He ran to the little boys room. If you're lucky, he'll hurl in there instead of at your place," he laughed.

I gave him a withering look and turned to leave, but he was still talking.

"I have to hand it to you. I didn't think I'd see Edward get himself tangled up with a girl for a _long_ time after that whole mess with Tanya. I don't know how you managed it, but you seem to have done a real number on him." He looked me up and down in that way that made my skin crawl. "Maybe it's because you're so different from her." He shrugged dismissively, then turned back to his slutty-looking conquest.

The bile rose again as I hurried away from him and headed for the restrooms. There was no line to the ladies' room, so I went in and staggered toward the last stall. I was suddenly seized with a sickening insecurity that literally made me quake. I sat on the toilet, rocking back and forth, holding my middle.

_That whole mess with Tanya. _The words rang in my ears; the name filled me with inexplicable anxiety. _Tanya. _Was she part of the terrible, life-altering moment that Edward's siblings had spoken of? A past girlfriend, obviously. Things must have ended badly. Very badly, for Edward to be so deeply affected.

He must have really loved her. A girl who was "so different" from me. Visions of women like Kate Denali danced in my head: long, lovely, tanned blondes with big boobs and curvy hips and toned legs and everything the polar opposite of my short, pale, slight self with the messy brown hair.

But for whatever reason, Edward Cullen was waiting outside for this tiny brunette, I reminded myself. And if I didn't get out there soon, he might be in danger of passing out and getting himself arrested.

I pulled myself together and looked long and hard in the mirror, trying to see the good things that Edward told me he saw. Trying to see the beauty. If he saw it, it must be there somewhere, right?

I sighed and turned away from the glass, then made my way out to the front door. There he stood, leaning against the wall, looking bored and ready to nod off; and he was still the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. He could protest all he wanted, but he truly was empirically beautiful. No one could possibly think that about me.

And yet when he saw me coming, his face transformed. A broad smile pushed his pink cheeks upward and crinkled his eyes, his boredom replaced with happiness. He was indisputably happy to see me. I had to hang onto that, no matter what.

"I was beginning to think you ditched me," he scolded gently as his arm went around me. I put mine around him as well, to help steady him as we exited the building. Our cab was waiting, and I considered it a miracle that no one had snagged it while I was having my mini-breakdown in the bathroom.

"I would never ditch you," I assured him. He opened the cab door for me; I scooted over so that he could enter through the same door instead of going around.

"Thanks," he whispered, placing his hand over my thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. "How's your knee?" He ran his fingers lightly over the fabric of my jeans where he knew the scrape was.

"It's fine. You kissed it and made it better, remember?" I hooked my arm through his and laid my head on his shoulder. I needed his reassurance now.

He took my hand and slid his fingers between mine. I felt him rest his cheek against my hair; he let out a sigh. We rode in silence this way for several miles, bodies pressed together, warm and drowsy.

Edward was drowsy, anyway. I was still too preoccupied to relax. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I had to know.

"Edward, are you asleep?" I whispered.

"Hmmm? No," he said groggily.

I took a deep breath. "Who's Tanya?"

I felt the length of his body stiffen; his fingers gripped mine a little more tightly. "What makes you ask?"

_Great, a question answered with a question._ "James mentioned that he was surprised to see you 'tangled up with a girl' after 'that whole mess with Tanya.'"

Edward was silent a moment. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing, really. Just that I'm very different from her."

He squeezed my hand more tightly and began rubbing his thumb along mine. "That's true, you are. Thank God."

I pulled my head back to give him a quizzical look. He smiled gently and continued.

"She was a girlfriend in college, that's all. I'm really not up to talking about our old girlfriends and boyfriends right now, if that's all right."

"Sure," I agreed, not really eager to launch into my past with Mike Newton, either. There wasn't much to tell. It was the typical short-lived college romance, doomed to fail by the time graduation rolled around. Mike certainly didn't have the earth-shattering effect on me that I feared Tanya did on Edward.

Edward was snoring softly when the cab pulled up to my house. I hoped I could rouse him long enough to get him up the stairs.

"Hey, _borracho_, we're here," I spoke in his ear as I nudged his arm.

He grunted softly and mumbled, "Did you just call me a drunk?"

"Yes. A drunk who's bi-lingual-impressive."

"Tri-lingual. I also speak French. _La langue d'amour_," he grinned, giving me a sleepy sideways look.

"Even better. A tri-lingual drunk with a one-track mind."

"What, you don't like the track I'm on?" he asked. "I don't believe that."

I ignored him and reached up to pay the cab driver. Edward immediately began to fish for his wallet, insisting on paying.

"I got it," I told him, shooing his hands away. "You can pay me back tomorrow if you're hell-bent on being chivalrous."

"I am, and I will," he declared as he swung the door open and stepped out of the taxi. He swayed slightly, but seemed to get his bearings by the time I joined him.

"Come on, Mister Stumbles," I teased as I put my arm around his narrow waist and steered him toward the stairs.

"I'm starting to take offense to all this name-calling," he grumbled as we climbed the steps, though he didn't sound offended at all. He was still grinning like a loon. "I get it. I'm a drunken idiot. You don't have to rub it in."

"I know I don't, but it's fun," I giggled as we trudged up the wooden staircase. "You're actually pretty cute when you're blotto. Well, when you're not being an asshole. But I think I can blame a lot of that on your buddy James. I can't believe you used to be friends with that guy."

"Yeah, well, that was another life." I couldn't decide if he sounded relieved or wistful.

"Do you miss it?"

"No," he answered emphatically. "Every time I think I do, something like this happens to remind me why I'm glad it's over."

"What do you mean by 'it?' Glad what's over?"

"College. Bar-hopping. Hanging out with douche-bags like James. Being one myself." His voice was brittle.

"Were you that bad?" I asked him. "Were you a womanizer?" I would have been surprised if he hadn't been. He's too good-looking not to have taken advantage of it at some point in his life.

"I had my moments," he admitted. "I've done things I'm not proud of."

"We all have," I reassured him. I tried not to think about Edward's past anymore, and how many women might have been in it. He was here with me now, and that was all that mattered.

We successfully reached the landing outside our duplex and I pulled my keys out of my purse's side pocket.

"Welcome to my humble abode," I said as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I'd left a lamp on in the living room because I hate coming home alone to a dark house. I had no way of knowing that this time, I wouldn't be alone.

"This is nice," Edward said as his sleepy eyes perused the place. This was the first time I was glad he was inebriated, so maybe he wouldn't notice the hodgepodge of mismatched furniture and décor Angela and I had gleaned from flea markets and garage sales.

"Eclectic," he smiled. "Cozy." Even drunk, nothing escaped him.

I pointed out the kitchen to the left and the bedrooms to the back, then motioned for him to follow me to the bathroom on the right. I showed him where the aspirin and antacids were in the medicine cabinet, then dug in the cupboards underneath until I came up with a brand new toothbrush.

"Here," I said as I tore off the packaging. "You're in luck, we have a spare. It's yours."

He stared at the toothbrush like I'd just handed him a key to Fort Knox.

"Wow. Thanks," he said, giving me the strangest look, like he was deeply touched at my generosity. "You're like a Girl Scout."

"What, prepared? I guess so," I laughed.

"Or maybe you have a whole drawer full of toothbrushes for all the guys you lure back here, and I'm just one of the many," he joked.

I gave him a look that wordlessly expressed how ludicrous, even insulting, that was.

"I'm sorry," he grinned. "I'm very grateful for this right about now."

I left him to brush his teeth while I found clean blankets for the sofa. As I carried them out to the living room, I wondered how I was going to sleep, knowing he was in the next room. I certainly never imagined that the first time I spent the night with Edward, it would be under these circumstances.

I went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water and a vitamin, hoping it would ease his eventual hangover. When I came out of the kitchen, he was just leaving the bathroom.

"Minty fresh," he proclaimed as he pointed at his delectable mouth. "Want a taste?"

He really was trying to kill me with the innuendos. From any other guy, they would have been laughable. But from Edward, even the lamest come-ons were tempting beyond belief.

"Maybe after I brush my own teeth," I put him off. "Here, take this. It'll help your hangover."

He dutifully placed the vitamin on his impossibly pink tongue and washed it down with several gulps of water. "Man, I'm thirsty," he commented as he downed the rest of the glass.

"Yeah, I'll bet." It felt strange, yet instinctively natural to be taking care of him like this. I was surprised at how much I wanted to do it, and how much I enjoyed it.

"Don't forget, there's aspirin and stomach medicine in the bathroom if you need it," I reminded him. I was suddenly afraid I had just crossed the line into mother hen territory.

He smiled down at me. "I know. You just showed me."

"Right," I said sheepishly. "Okay. So… I'm just going to go get ready for bed. You can watch TV if you want-the remote's on the coffee table. I made up the couch for you."

"I see that. Thanks." He didn't move; just stood there, gazing at me, unblinking.

I could barely tear my eyes away, or make my body move. I mutely gestured toward the bathroom like a mime, then slowly made myself turn and head in that direction.

"Bella?" his voice called after me as I opened the bathroom door.

I whirled around, my face a question mark.

"I was right. You do take good care of me. And I like it."

His voice was warm butterscotch, melting the last of my resolve, if I had any to begin with. What the hell was I thinking, making him sleep on my couch? Why wasn't I dragging him into my bedroom instead?

I wrestled with that question as I smiled at him and closed the bathroom door behind me. I pulled my hair back and tied it in a hair band, then scrubbed the make-up off my face and brushed my teeth. I'd been ready for Edward to take me on his piano a few hours ago. And now that I had him here in my apartment, too drunk to fight me off - which he clearly didn't want to do anyway - I was acting like a nervous virgin. Was it the way he'd been waffling earlier, pushing me away? He had apologized for that, and pretty impressively, under the circumstances. Or was I getting spooked by the ghosts that still seemed to haunt him, no matter what he said?

I stared at the extra toothbrush in the holder as I placed mine next to it. It seemed hugely significant somehow, like a marker of Edward arriving in my life. The Real Edward-serious, silly, smart, foolish, and everything in between. I'd wanted him so badly, and here he was. The emotional paralysis that threatened to overtake me was an eye-opener. I suddenly understood what had made Edward push me away earlier.

Was I really ready for this? It had been serious between us from the start. Anything that happened now was only going to carve his niche more deeply into my soul. But the alternative - walking away from him - was unthinkable. The only thing I could do now was be honest, with him and myself. I decided I'd play it by ear.

When I crept quietly out of the bathroom, I looked for Edward on the couch. It was empty. My eyes searched and found him across the room, leaning over the end table where several framed photos of me, Angela and our friends were displayed.

I cleared my throat; he straightened and turned. "It's been a long day," I heard myself say. "I'm going to get some sleep. Do you need anything else?"

His tired eyes still seemed to gleam with hunger as he stared at me from across the room. He didn't answer.

"Just yell if you do," I said, my voice cracking pitifully. I cleared my throat again and hated the warm flush that began to creep over my face. "Good night," I called as I escaped to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, cursing my cowardice. For better or worse, Edward and I were more alike than we ever dreamed.

I tried to comfort myself with the thought that I didn't want my first time with Edward to be when he was too drunk to even remember it the next morning. For that matter, he might not even recall half the things he said to me tonight, including his apologies. Knowing my luck, he'd be calling me "Miss Swan" again in the morning, and not in a "handcuff me to the bed and give it to me now" kind of way, either.

I peeled off my clothes and donned my usual sleepwear, boy shorts and a cotton camisole. I turned on the fan and crawled into bed with no hope of falling asleep in the near future. I could think of absolutely nothing else but Edward on my couch. I wondered how many clothes he'd removed. What was he sleeping in? What if he was naked? Oh, God, how I longed to see him naked, to feel every inch of his skin next to mine. It seemed extremely unfair that he'd already studied nearly every part of my body with his hands, and I'd only had the pleasure of memorizing him with my eyes.

Just as I began fantasizing about going out to the couch and massaging him the way he had me, I heard a loud yowling noise, followed by a little cursing. I jumped out of bed and threw the door open, listening. The cursing continued in the direction of the kitchen. I ran around the corner and through the doorway, trying to see what was going on in the pale light streaming through the kitchen window. I finally discerned Edward leaning on the dining table, one leg hitched up as he bent down and rubbed his foot.

"What happened?" I exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I stubbed my toe on the chair," he grumbled. "It's nothing."

"Why didn't you turn on the lights?" I asked him. "What do you need? Let me get it for you."

I spied his empty glass on the table as he said, "I just wanted to get some more water."

"Here, I keep a pitcher in the refrigerator," I said as I grabbed his glass off the table and opened the refrigerator door. I got a few ice cubes out of the freezer and plopped them in the glass, then filled it with water. I turned around to hand it to him, and I froze.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. The light from the refrigerator spilled over his naked chest, illuminating the slight swell of his pectorals; his flat, pink nipples; the gentle ripples of his abdominal muscles; the smattering of light brown hair and moles that decorated his torso. That endless, long, inviting torso. I followed the trail of hair that joined his navel to his groin, growing thicker until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear. My eyes continued their journey down to the rounded bulge between his strong, well-muscled thighs.

Fuck me.

_No, really, do it_, I thought madly as I stared at his glorious physique. On the counter, over the kitchen table. I didn't really care. I wanted him, now, however I could get him. Whatever hesitation I'd been feeling was erased with one look at what I'd been missing.

I finally had the sense to be vaguely embarrassed that I'd been openly ogling him, and I looked up sheepishly into his face. I needn't have worried. His eyes were traveling the length of my body, up and down again, with equal intensity. Pins and needles of desire began to dance between my legs at the ravenous look on his face.

"What are you wearing?" he finally rasped.

_Well, certainly nothing very sexy, _I thought. "Is that a rhetorical question?" I asked.

He couldn't seem to muster a laugh.

"Here's your water," I said lamely, holding out the glass. He stared at me like I'd gone mad, then finally took it from me and managed a few gulps.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered hoarsely. He stepped closer and reached past me, setting the glass on the counter behind me. The refrigerator door swung shut as he pulled me closer, his hands cradling my face. I could feel his breath hot on my forehead as he towered over me, making me feel small and feminine. The pale moonbeams through the window flickered like flames in his eyes. They were fierce as they raked over me, and I felt that inferno building in him like I had earlier that day. But this time was different. This time, he was giving in, letting it out.

And this time, I was ready for him.

* * *

**I know, I know. Trust me, we're not stopping here! There is much more of this night to come. Just not quite yet. Patience is a virtue... so I'm told. ;)**


	16. Vertigo, part 3

This chapter puts the "M" in this M-rated story. Mature readers only, please.

Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for the divine inspiration that gave us Twilight. And thanks to everyone who has supported me and given me great feedback. I have no idea what you're going to think of this one...

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 8 (cont'd.)**

"You can't do what anymore?" I whispered, just to be sure Edward's lips would tell me the same thing his eyes were saying.

"Stay away from you. Pretend I don't want you." His thumbs ran slowly along my cheeks as his fingers combed into my hair. "I've wanted you since the day I first saw you… since I first touched you."

I stared up at him, dumbstruck. I prayed to God that this was actually happening; that I hadn't fallen asleep in my bed and was simply having one of my desperate dreams. His fingers felt real enough as they tangled further into my hair, running along my scalp, sending tingles down my neck. My hands moved to his chest of their own volition, my fingers spreading across the wisps of hair over his taut pecs. His eyes were hypnotic as they held mine under their spell, but I could feel the warmth of his skin and the rapid drumming of his heart beneath my hands.

"I can't believe I finally get to touch you," I said, my words the merest whisper. I could barely find my voice.

A tiny gust of a laugh shot from his mouth. "'Get to?'" he repeated. "Like it's some kind of privilege. If you only knew how much I've wanted you to." The Sex Voice was softer, gruffer, more seductive than ever.

_How much I've wanted you to…. _My mind was awed at the confession. "It is a privilege," I insisted. My fingers skimmed over the protrusion of his nipples and further down to the beauty marks below, reading the Braille of his body as my eyes remained fixed upon his. His face was so close now, I could smell the toothpaste masking his earlier sins. I didn't care what they were. I welcomed every last one of them.

He shook his head ever so slightly as it bent closer to mine. "You always get it backwards."

Any words I might have mustered to deny it were silenced by his lips upon my lips, his tongue tangled with mine. The soft exploration of our earlier kiss had given way to hungry demands this time. He was insatiable now - his mouth tasting, probing, licking, biting mine - gently but insistently until he drew ragged breaths from my ravaged mouth. He kept closing the distance between our bodies until none was left. I didn't realize I was giving way until the small of my back met the edge of the countertop and I was pinned in place, the length of his torso flush against mine, hot and hard and soft all at once.

His hands finally let go of my hair and dropped quickly to my waist. I gasped in surprise as he easily hoisted me up on the counter, bringing us face to face. His eyes never left mine as his hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them firmly and pulling me tight against him again, my groin to his belly, my legs wrapping around his trim waist. He seemed determined to get as close to me as physically possible, and my body strained to meet his, pushing greedily against him.

I finally let my eyes fall to the beard that was overtaking his jaw, and my fingers soon followed, trailing along the thick, rough hair and thrilling to the prickle of it against my fingertips. His mouth demanded my attention, lips swollen and red, parted and panting, inches from my own. I stared at the delicious candy that was so close. I was awed by the sight, the feel of his mouth as my fingers traced the soft, wet skin of his lips.

The sound that came from him then was something between a sigh of surrender and a growl of animal lust. I savored the candy as his mouth attacked mine, insistent and hungry. His beautiful hands stroked my face, then drifted down my neck to my shoulders. I couldn't keep track of them after that as they traveled up and down my body, front and back, leaving intricate webs of sensation that ensnared me and bound me to him as his mouth took possession of mine.

He finally released me with a gasp, and his eyes traveled my face again, seeming to drink me in as I was him. He kissed my cheek gently as his hand caressed the other side of my face.

"So beautiful," he whispered in my ear, his warm breath billowing in shockwaves straight down my spine. His words mirrored my thoughts exactly as I gazed at the exquisite sculpture of his face so close to mine. His mouth began a slow, seductive journey down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses to my shoulder. My fingers twisted deep into his thick hair as my head fell back, granting him better access to my neck. Everything in me yielded to him, begging him to invade my personal space and make it his. I wanted his in return, my greedy hands tracing the strong lines of his jaw and neck to his broad shoulders, then over his shoulder blades and down the ribs of his back. My fingers examined every muscle and bone, eager to learn the map of his body beneath the warm, smooth blanket of skin. Was this how he felt when he worked on me during our massage sessions? Like a grateful student granted permission to study a revered subject? I should only be so lucky.

His exploration of my shoulder continued as he pushed the hindrance of my camisole strap out of the way. He ran his tongue along my collar bone, the wetness making his breath feel cool as it met my skin. Goose bumps rose on my flesh and I felt my nipples harden under the thin cotton of my shirt. His mouth traveled toward the evidence of my desire, and I tensed involuntarily as he pushed the fabric lower, ready to uncover the tiny, quivering mound. I'd always been self-conscious about the size of my breasts, the modest boost they'd gotten when I went on the pill still not enough to erase my insecurity.

Even drunk, Edward didn't miss the way my body stiffened against him. "Is this not okay? Do you want me to stop?" he asked hoarsely.

"No, I don't want you to stop," I assured him, biting my lip and bracing myself.

"Then what is it?" he questioned, cupping my chin gently as his bleary eyes tried to focus on mine.

"It's just… I don't want you to be disappointed," I gulped, looking away from his worried gaze.

"Disappointed…?" he said, uncomprehending. "In you? That's impossible." He reassured me with small, sweet kisses, his lips beseeching.

"I'm not one of those kinds of girls, you know," I faltered, trying to find the words to explain. "Those perfect-bodied Barbie-doll girls." Images of Kate Denali flashed through my mind, and I wondered again if Tanya had resembled her.

Edward looked genuinely confused now. "What makes you think I want someone like that?" His face registered something akin to distaste.

I shrugged and had difficulty meeting his incredulous stare. "James said I wasn't your type… that I was so different from-"

"Sshhh." Before I could say her name, Edward's fingers pressed gently over my lips, shushing me the way I'd silenced him that afternoon. "Don't let any of his garbage pollute your mind." His eyes flashed fiercely and his grip was firm on my face. "The only thing you need to know about any girls from my past is that none of them ever made me feel the way you do. Not even close. This…with you…." he shook his head, seeming to struggle to find the words. "…it's so much more than anything I ever had, anything I've ever felt before. I don't know how to explain it… I don't even understand it." His hands stroked my face gently; his eyes pleaded for permission. "Let me show you."

I wondered if he knew what his words did to me; how they swelled my heart to the point of bursting and brought me to my knees. He probably wouldn't even remember them in the morning. He would never understand how he pulled me off the ledge and sent me freefalling; falling for him, falling in love. I refused to think of how hard my landing might be. Instead, I allowed myself the freedom, the exhilaration, the weightlessness of the fall.

I clutched him to me as his mouth sought my skin again, burning a path south, eager to feel and taste the few parts of me that he had yet to discover. When he tugged the hem of my camisole gently upward to remove it, I raised my arms to the sky like wings and let him release me. His mouth closed over my naked breast, hot and sweet, gently tickling and sucking my nipple into a rigid button that seemed to be hardwired to every nerve that converged between my legs. His hand worked the neglected breast in similar fashion, fingers massaging the flesh until it was erect and eager for his mouth to come claim it as well.

My sighs became moans as he kissed and caressed my breasts this way, back and forth, until they were swollen and sore and my back arched wantonly, head thrown back, hands buried in his hair.

He finally released them and worked his lips up the other side of my chest and neck to my ear, where he whispered, "You see? More than a mouthful is a waste."

The giggle that escaped me was a relief; a momentary respite from the sexual tension twisting my body so thoroughly under his touch. "I thought the saying was, 'more than a handful is a waste.'"

"No, the handful measurement is for your ass," he murmured wickedly, his hands suddenly dropping to my cheeks and giving each a firm squeeze. I gasped with pleasure as his palms and fingers caressed and then thoroughly gripped my flesh harder, pulling me more tightly to him. My legs were spread wide, my panty-covered crotch straining against the treasure trail of pubic hair that taunted me above the waistband of his briefs. I could feel my hips beginning to move against him, aching to start the rhythm that would draw him into me, deeper and deeper. He felt it and moved with me, his hands guiding me. And then his mouth was on mine, his tongue teasing me in identical rhythm with our bodies, simulating what we both wanted, what we knew was coming. My arms wrapped around his neck to match my legs locked around his waist. The hair on his chest tickled my nipples, and I flattened my breasts against him, eliminating every bit of air between us. I couldn't get close enough to him. I wanted to breathe only his breath, smell only his skin, even tainted with the alcohol that battled his heavenly natural scent.

His mouth broke away from mine as he rasped, "Where's your bedroom?"

"First door to the left," I reminded him as he lifted me easily off the counter and headed for the kitchen door. He staggered a bit, his motor skills still shot. Either that or I weighed a lot more than I thought. He was the oddest drunk I'd ever seen, seemingly lucid, but his body uncoordinated and uncooperative as he stumbled around the corner and into my bedroom.

"I could have walked, you know," I teased him as he teetered toward the shape of my unmade bed in the dark.

"No way. That would spoil my romantic seduction moment," he replied. Mere seconds later, he walked right into the bed frame and rather ungracefully deposited me on top of the mattress, mumbling "Shit!" as he half-fell on top of me, clutching his bruised shin in pain.

"Edward," I laughed ruefully, unable to contain myself. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck. Ungh. Yes," he grumbled, rubbing his shin and then seeming to give up on the endeavor. "What about you? I didn't hurt your back, did I?" His voice was filled with concern.

"No, I'm fine. The bed is a soft place to land," I reminded him with a smile.

"I never want to hurt you," he whispered as he eased his body over mine, feeling his way in the dark until his face was inches from mine. "I only want to make you feel good." His lips were tender on mine. "Better than good." His lips grew bolder, and my mouth opened against his, letting him in. His hands were in my hair again; mine found the small of his back and pressed him into me as my legs encircled him. I knew that I'd probably regret having sex with him when he might not even remember it, but my body was in control now, and it would not be stilled as it writhed beneath him.

His body responded in kind, moving fluidly against me, grinding me rhythmically into the mattress. He groaned loudly as his lips broke away from mine, attacking my neck and chest with renewed vigor. My fingers itched for the feel of his hair between them, and I obeyed. He moaned as I massaged his scalp; I moaned as he took my right breast in his mouth again. I was overwhelmed at the sensations hurtling through my body, one after the other, taking me to places I'd never been. Frustration began to bubble within me as my open legs were met with only layers of fabric instead of skin on skin. I'd never felt lust like this in my life; never wanted and needed a man - _this_ man - inside me so badly. My brain had been reduced to only one base thought, a crass and relentless mantra: _Fuck me. Fuck me. Please, for the love of all that is holy or otherwise, FUCK. ME._

He raised his head from my chest, breathing heavily, and I could feel his frustration as well. It came out in his voice as he seethed, "It's too dark in here. I can't see you. I need to see you."

"Open the blinds," I suggested, gesturing to the window across the room. Just as I was about to offer to do it myself, Edward was off the bed and weaving his way to the sill. He fumbled with the plastic rod until the slats opened and let the night sky into the room. The moon had risen late, but its rays were finally here, bathing the room a pale, pearlescent indigo. I memorized his silhouette as the light glowed over his shoulders and lit his tousled hair into blue flames. He didn't move. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel the heat of his eyes on me, scorching me, even as my oscillating fan drew goose bumps from my flesh with every pass. He walked slowly toward me; my heart rate increased twofold with every step. When he finally stopped at the edge of the bed and gazed down at me, my breathing was quick and shallow, chest heaving. The burning hunger in his eyes ignited a fire between my legs and I squirmed at the radiating heat. I silently begged him to release me.

As if reading my mind, he knelt next to me and ran his hands slowly down my torso to encase my hips, his thumbs digging softly into the nexus of my thigh and hipbone. The nerves there quivered violently and I gasped audibly, my hips lunging involuntarily upward. In that moment, he grasped the fabric of my panties between his thumbs and fingers, and with one easy pull, they were halfway down my thighs. I exhaled in a shuddering breath as he continued to pull them slowly down my legs, then left them in a lacy pile at my feet.

His hands moved as slowly as molasses back up my calves, first gentle and feather-like, then firmer as he reached my thighs, gripping them and running his thumbs along the inside, up toward my throbbing sex. A second attack of self-consciousness battled with my arousal as I suddenly wondered if Edward was turned off by pubic hair. I always kept things trimmed and shaved down there, but I hadn't actually waxed the hair off in…well, ever. Mike never seemed to mind much, and the thought of yanking my pubes out by the roots had always sent me into paroxysms of panic. It sounded too painful to actually endure of my own freewill.

I must have frozen up again, because Edward stopped just short of the manicured triangle and shifted his gaze to my face, gauging me.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. I'm just… I'm sorry I haven't… waxed," I finally sighed, biting my lip.

He gave me the same look that he'd given me when I tried to hand him his water glass in the kitchen - a look that clearly questioned my sanity.

"Do you honestly think I give a shit about that?" he asked. "I'm sitting here thinking that you look so unearthly beautiful in the moonlight that you should be in a museum… that I should get down on my knees and worship you and thank God that you even let me touch you… and you're worried about a little pubic hair?"

I stared at him, stupefied at his words. He was saying the kinds of things that I'd dreamed of him saying, but never truly thought I'd hear. He was the one who looked like Michelangelo's David, his slender, well-muscled physique gleaming in pale perfection under the moon's rays.

He released my legs and crawled up next to me, lying on his side and turning me toward him.

"How shallow do you think I am?" he said softly before he kissed me. His hand slid slowly down my middle and settled on my hip, his fingers gently squeezing my cheek, thumb rubbing that incredibly tender spot on my belly. I felt moisture gather between my legs, preparing for his touch. I forced myself to focus and answer his question.

"I don't think you're shallow. It's just that, anymore, a lot of girls have Brazilians, and I thought you might prefer that," I said, feeling a little foolish. I stared at his chest, unable to meet his eyes; and my hand couldn't resist the urge to reach out and examine the hard muscle there.

He let out an annoyed-sounding laugh. "I prefer whatever makes you happy," he said. He moved his hand slowly forward, over my abdomen, toward the patch of hair in question. "I want what's inside there. I don't care how the outside is decorated."

My soul quivered at his words; my body, at his touch.

"You are too good to be true," I sighed, moving my own hand down his flat stomach, letting it drift to the chiseled indentation that marked his hip. I couldn't help but stare at every distinctly masculine part of his long torso as I explored them all with my fingers.

"Hardly," he snorted, a glint in his eyes as his hand drifted lower. "I'll leave the hairless pussies to the pedophiles." And with that, his fingers slid over my snatch of hair, then gently worked their way between my labia to the slick, tender flesh beneath. A moan vibrated my throat immediately at his touch, my legs parting and hips lifting to meet his probing digits. My own fingers combed through his treasure trail and slipped under the waistband of his briefs, eager to find his cock and give him the same immense pleasure he was giving me.

"So wet," he whispered as his fingers slid up and down my clitoris, into my ready opening. "Is all this for me?" he questioned. The half-smile that flitted across his face faded quickly as my hand moved further down to the base of his cock, forcing a groan from him instead. He massaged me up and down, making me nearly sob at the sensation of his fingers working their usual magic, but with in an intensity I'd only dreamed of. He was right - I was drenched with desire for him. With every stroke of his hand, his middle finger slipped deeper inside me, urging my hips toward him to help him along.

I grasped the base of his cock and slowly pulled my hand upward until it reached the sensitive tip. I savored the sound of his heavy breathing as I swirled my palm over the thick, round head. I pushed my hand back down his length to the base again, loving the feel of him responding to my touch, thickening, lengthening, growing in my hand.

"God, Bella," he groaned. I could answer only with mindless noises of my own as we stroked each other, the push and pull between us growing more urgent as our desire grew. His face was so close that it was nothing but a beautiful blur in the rare moments that I tried to focus. My own rapture was escalating to the point that I didn't even notice at first that there was something wrong. "Wrong" was the wrong word. Nothing could ever be wrong with Edward, at least not so wrong that I wouldn't do my damnedest to make it right.

Edward's equipment simply wasn't quite up to the task at hand, so to speak.

He wasn't really soft, that much was evident. Nor was he particularly hard, at least not as hard I was certain he was capable of being. He wavered somewhere in between, responding to my touch, but not enough to progress to the next level. I soon realized that the alcohol and cigarettes and probably plain exhaustion were taking an unfortunate toll on Edward's manhood. It wasn't a problem so much as a disappointment, one that became more evident the more diligently I worked to make him feel as amazing as he made me feel. And, rather ironically, the more friction I applied, the less rigid he became.

I slowed my efforts and stroked him gently, then leaned in to kiss him. He obviously realized that his body was letting him down, for his face hardened with humiliation and he removed his hand from between my legs. He turned away from my effort to kiss him, rolling on his back and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I don't believe it," he finally said, his voice a mere crumb.

"Edward, come on," I began, determined to make this okay for him. No matter how insecure I felt about my body, I was sure it didn't compare to a man's utter shock and horror when faced with any sort of penile dysfunction. "Think of how much you had to drink. You could barely walk an hour ago. And you know smoking doesn't help. It constricts the blood flow to-"

"Stop. I beg you, please don't," he cut me off. "I'm fully aware of the potential side effects of my assaholic behavior tonight. It's just… this has never happened to me before. And I know all guys say that. Every guy who can't get it up swears it's never happened before. But I'm telling you, I've been drunk off my ass a hundred times before and could still seal the deal. So this is…."

He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, as all the breath left his lungs in one tremendous sigh. I hoped he was exaggerating about the number of his past drunken conquests.

"It's normal. Human," I finished for him. I scooted closer and laid my arm over his chest, covering his heart with my hand. His face twisted bitterly as he shook his head in disbelief.

"I know what it is. I'm being punished for all the times I fantasized about you when I shouldn't have." He placed the palms of his hands over his eyelids, rubbing them, as his fingers clawed at his hair.

"You fantasized about me?" I asked, slightly awed and more than a little thrilled. "When?"

He let out a short guffaw. "When didn't I fantasize about you? I mean, that's the real kicker: I've been jacking off at least twice a day thinking about you, and now that we're actually here together, the perpetual boner I've had for a month is a no-show."

I let that sink in a moment, savoring the knowledge, as well as the mental image. It was not, however, helping to ease my current state of sexual frustration.

"I even did it in the office," Edward continued. "I've never whacked off at work before. Ridiculous."

I stared at him in surprise. "When did you do that?"

"Last Saturday," he sighed. "The whole time I was working on your legs, I was losing my mind. I wanted to mount you right on the massage table. Instead, I finished myself off in the restroom after our session was done."

I gasped as I realized what that revelation meant. "I can't believe you did that," I said in wonder, remembering my own similar actions right after he left the room.

"I know, I'm a sick pervert who has no business treating you anymore," he lamented.

"Well, if you're a pervert, then so am I," I informed him. "As soon as you left the room, I did the same thing. I was so turned on from you touching me that I couldn't stop myself."

He turned his head to look at me then, his expression incredulous. "You mean to tell me we were both masturbating at the same time, a room away from each other?"

I nodded. Aggravated grins suddenly spread across both of our faces as the immense irony of the situation struck us. Frustrated anew, Edward began muttering a stream of profanities as his hands covered his eyes again. I was reminded of the first day I ever saw his face and realized he was the man behind the hypnotic voice and masterful, healing hands. He was infinitely more attractive to me now, intoxicated and tired and unable to bring our fantasies to life. He was real.

He ended his string of expletives with the confounding words, "God-damned Dead Kennedys," then sighed and stared at the ceiling again.

It took a moment before my mind switched gears from the former First Family to the 1980s seminal punk rock band. I chortled as I made the connection.

"'Too Drunk To Fuck?'" I recited the title of one of their more infamous songs.

His head lolled toward mine and his eyes narrowed. "You knew that?"

"It's a punk rock classic."

"Wow. I think I love you," he said, his crooked grin disarming, as if I had any defenses left. His words reverberated in my head, a joke that didn't seem funny. I wanted to take those words so seriously that it scared me. I couldn't risk serious right now.

"No, that's the Partridge Family," I answered sardonically.

His eyes twinkled with mirth, but his voice was low and husky. "Now I know I do."

_Please don't do this to me, Edward. _I couldn't afford to believe any more of his whiskey-induced professions. I stared at his chest, absently swirling my index finger through the sparse hair around his left nipple. I felt his hand on top of my head, stroking my hair, and I finally looked up into his eyes, so remorseful as he gazed at me.

"If you knew how much I want you, you wouldn't believe this is happening. I don't know why my body's betraying me now," he said softly, shifting onto his side and cupping my chin gently in his hand. "Maybe it's because I want you too much."

"Edward, you're still trying to metabolize all that liquor, and it's late, and you're exhausted. We don't have to do this tonight, you know. We can have plenty more nights together… if that's what you want," I added uncertainly.

His brows furrowed as his eyes wandered my face, my body. "I want… so much. Too much," he repeated. I didn't know why he kept saying that. I didn't like how it sounded - as if he didn't deserve to get what he wanted.

"I want the same thing," I assured him, my hand reaching up to stroke the soft skin of his cheek where it met the rough stubble of his jaw. "I want you. I can wait. You're worth waiting for."

His eyes were deceptively sober. "I want to be. I want to be deserving of you. I want…." his voice trailed off again, desperation whittling the end of his sentence away. He leaned in and kissed me, moaning softly into my mouth. He seemed needy and vulnerable as he pulled me toward him, working his leg between mine, wrapping his arms around me as he deepened our kiss. I melted into him; limbs clutching him more tightly, pressing every inch of my skin against his and luxuriating in the warmth of his body meshed with mine. His lips left my mouth with a sigh and immediately found my cheek, my neck, my earlobe.

"Let me have you, just for tonight. I can make this so good for you, I promise," he whispered throatily into my ear. His body moved so sensuously with mine that I didn't even need his cock inside me to feel completely at one with him.

"You can have me as many nights as you want," I whispered back, my lips catching on the soft skin of his earlobe as I spoke. "It's already good for me. Just being next to you is good for me. I never thought it would really happen. I thought you'd never let me get close to you."

He grimaced as he spoke. "That's because I'm a fuck-up, Bella. I'm damaged goods. And now you have proof." He held me tighter, clinging to me, and buried his face in my neck. I was reminded of the pain I'd felt emanating from him the first time I saw and heard him sing. Its raw sting pulsed through me now as I held him, and I wished for nothing more than the power to heal him through my touch, the way he had done for me.

My hands combed gently through his hair as I rained tiny kisses over his temple, his forehead, anywhere my mouth could reach. "Everyone is damaged goods, if they've lived long enough. I don't care if you're not perfect. You're perfect for me."

The sound he made into my neck was indescribable, some strange hybrid of animal and human, pain and pleasure. It shook me to my core.

"Bella…" he began, his voice thick with emotion. I waited for him to go on. I tried to get a glimpse of his expression, but his features were obscured as he breathed heavily into my neck. He finally pressed his lips to the side of my face for a prolonged moment, a kiss that felt almost reverent.

"I need you," he said.

I looked into his eyes until he slowly raised them to mine. "I'm yours," I promised. "Take what you need."

He shook his head slowly. "No. I want to give to you instead." His lips pressed solemnly against mine. "Let me love you."

My eyes rolled back and my lids closed. I could no longer think about what his words meant. They would be long gone in the daylight, with no witness to remember them but me. Instead, my mind surrendered to my body and to Edward, and I let them be my guide.

Everything that followed was nothing but pure sensation taking over me. His hands, his mouth, were everywhere; kissing and caressing my skin until I was so delirious I thought I might pass out. As he worked his way down my body, he came to the part of my abdomen that he'd worked on that morning, and I winced as he touched the tender spot.

"Are you sore from the psoas release?" he asked me. I was amazed that he couldn't sustain an erection, but he could still enunciate the phrase, "psoas release."

"A little," I nodded.

He responded by gently kissing and licking my side until I could feel nothing but rampant lust raging between my legs. My body undulated beneath him, ready for his mouth to move down, to taste the cream that coated me. His hands felt huge but lithe on my hips as he gripped them lightly, massaging his way down, pressing his thumbs into that spot that he now knew made me squirm with unbearable pleasure.

"Edward, please," I begged, the words out of my mouth before I had formulated the thought.

"Please what?" he taunted, moving his lips southward. I felt my legs opening for him, beckoning him. My entire groin throbbed almost painfully with want.

Suddenly he rolled off of me and stood up next to the bed, leaving me cold and shocked as I peered up at him, confused. He reached down and grasped my thighs gently, then pulled them toward him, turning my body so that my legs opened to the side of the bed. He kneeled down on the floor between them, then lifted my legs and placed them over his shoulders.

"Oh God," I moaned with anticipation as his hands slid down the insides of my thighs and came to rest on either side of my sex. I felt him gently pull on the skin there until my labia opened, exposing my quivering clitoris to the cool air. Before I could react, his warm tongue replaced the cold air, and I whimpered like a baby as the shockwaves barreled through me. His tongue licked up and down and side to side, thoroughly tasting every bit of flesh there; and when it flicked rapidly on the swollen tip of my clit, I cried out in sobs of ecstasy that I could not control.

I had a quick flashback to my time with Mike - certainly not because he was an expert at oral sex, but because he occasionally liked to watch porn to get in the mood. I remember laughing at the women in the videos, with their absurdly exaggerated panting and groaning and screaming, like banshees in heat. I always thought they were putting on quite a show because men seem to fall for that sort of sexual melodrama.

But as Edward Cullen buried his face between my legs, I had to admit that maybe it wasn't all acting. Maybe there were sensations that were so mind-blowing, so beyond the scope of mental control, that the only response was an uninhibited physical release. The combination of his soft lips, wet tongue, rough beard and hot breath on my sex was far too incendiary for me to hold in my reactions. By the time his tongue plunged deep inside me, performing what his dick could not, I gasped and moaned uncontrollably. "God" and "Edward" became one and the same as I cried out to both, alternately.

Edward had become more animal than human, too, growling and grunting as he devoured me. When he spoke, it was only to ask me rhetorical questions such as, "You like this, don't you?" to which I could only nod helplessly and twist my fingers in his hair, forcing his face back down.

"God, you're so delicious," he murmured as his tongue tasted every part of me, front to back - all the way back. "I'll never get enough of you." He placed his hands behind my knees and pushed my thighs further apart, spreading me wide open, as he continued to explore every orifice with his mouth. I wondered if he only did this when he was drunk, or if he was this uninhibited all the time. I didn't stop him, because not only was I curious, but everything he was doing felt amazing. I had known from the minute I met him that I would be putty in his hands, no matter what he wanted to do to me. I had the feeling he was about to put that theory to the test.

He slid his hands, smooth as silk, down the backs of my thighs to my pussy again, but this time, he didn't stop there. He placed one hand over my clit, stimulating it with his long fingers before slipping them back to my wet opening again. I was out of my element with someone as skilled as Edward, and my ceaseless moaning was evidence. Mike had been my first lover; I had been his third. Neither of us was particularly experienced, and sex was mostly awkward and experimental. Going from him to Edward was like leaving the triple-A minors for the All-Star team. If I had thought his hands did wondrous things to my muscles before, I was about to be schooled in exactly what his hands were capable of.

His index finger was deep inside me before I could blink an eye. Through my fog of desire, I could hear him utter things like "so tight" and "dripping wet" and "going to have to get you ready for me." That's when a second finger joined the first, slowly pushing into me, stretching me, forcing more cries from my mouth. My hips moved rhythmically upward, pulling him deeper. He began increasing the speed, pumping faster, curling his fingers into my g-spot and stroking it rapidly. I could feel the pressure building inside me… the convergence of a million unbearably intense sensations in the ultra-sensitive spot that Edward's expert touch was massaging into a frenzy.

"That's it," he whispered as he felt my body tighten around him. "You're almost there."

And then, inexplicably, he removed his fingers from me. "No!" I blurted without thinking. "Don't stop," I begged him, my words more a whimper than a demand.

"Oh, I'm not," he replied, gently kissing the insides of my quaking thighs. "I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

His mouth descended on me again, working me up and down with his lips and tongue, tickling me roughly with his beard. He kissed his way back between my cheeks again, and I groaned softly when he tongued the tight opening there. I wondered if I should be ashamed at how good it felt. Then again, if it didn't bother Edward, then why should it bother me?

He placed a wet fingertip against the taut, flat opening and pushed gently. My body instinctively resisted the intrusion, and I was suddenly reminded of my last trip to the gynecologist. She had performed an anal exam, and though not exactly painful, it wasn't the most fun fifteen seconds of my life, either. Was I ready for something like this?

"Do you trust me, Bella?" Edward asked, again seeming to sense my hesitation. His eyes were liquid midnight as he sought my permission. I was surprised to realize that I didn't even have to think about my reply.

"Of course I do."

"You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, don't you?" His words tumbled like cascades of velvet from his lips, caressing me, lulling me. I nodded my consent. "I need you to relax completely. Can you do that for me?"

Could I? He had me in such a heightened state of arousal that I wasn't sure.

"I'll try," I whispered.

He proceeded to work slowly on the rigid band of muscle, lubricating me with his tongue, then rhythmically probing with his finger, trying to gain admittance. His free hand rubbed my thighs and stomach with a soothing touch, trying to relax me; and then his fingers found my clitoris again, massaging me slowly, tempering the discomfort that his other hand was causing.

Still, I winced as his relentless finger pushed its way further inside me. "Relax, Bella," I heard him say, his breath warm and enticing on my straining flesh. I concentrated on releasing the tension from my body, letting it go limp and pliant in his hands. And then, quite suddenly and surprisingly, the ring of muscles relaxed and gave way, allowing Edward's index finger entrance. It slipped easily inside me after that, and I gasped at the unexpected flood of pleasure that rippled through me.

"How does that feel?" he asked as he gently pushed the digit all the way in.

"It feels good," I admitted, still a bit flabbergasted. "So good."

"That's because there's a bundle of extremely sensitive nerves right at the opening here," he murmured, the doctor in him taking over. I was glad he didn't use any clinical terms for the body parts he was stimulating, because I really didn't want to think too much about what he was doing to me.

"It's really an amazing pleasure center in the body. You can get a lot of sexual gratification from this." His finger began slowly, methodically pumping in and out of me, building a rhythm in the back as he had done in the front moments ago. "I'm going to give you the most amazing orgasm you've ever had, Bella. I'm going to make you come like you've never come before."

"Oh my God," I mumbled as my eyes closed and my head fell back. I reached behind me and gripped the bed covers in my fists as I gave myself over completely to the tremors that Edward was sending through me. Not content with breaching my back door, he attacked the front simultaneously, his mouth and other hand taking turns stroking and kissing and rubbing and licking me until I writhed uncontrollably, begging for more. That's when I felt his fingers enter my vagina again; one at first, plumbing me deeply; then two, filling me completely. My cries of ecstasy came out in sobs again as his hands delved into the most tender, intimate parts of me, stoking the burning nerve endings into a raging volcano that was in desperate need of release.

"Edward… God… please…." I gasped as his fingers plunged deeper, faster, more ruthlessly inside me. I didn't think I could take anymore. The pleasure was so intense it was almost pain. I throbbed with need, begging for a climax to end the exquisite torture.

"Come for me, beautiful girl," was Edward's whispered command. He placed the tip of his tongue to the tip of my clit, then moved it back and forth with the speed and delicacy of a hummingbird's wings.

The volcano erupted.

The first contraction of my orgasm was so strong, so intense that my hips surged upward, every muscle inside me gripping Edward's fingers as if they were life preservers. My chest heaved breathlessly as I cried out; my hands gripped any piece of fabric that was nearby. After the shockwaves of that first initial burst had subsided, the rest of the contractions began, wracking my body with wave after wave of unbridled ecstasy as I convulsed around Edward's hands. I had no name, no frame of reference, for this kind of euphoria. The freedom of my climax made me feel as though I had left my body entirely; yet I had never been so completely, happily anchored within the confines of my flesh and its demands.

As I slowly came down from my incredible high, I became aware of Edward's amazing hands still moving gently inside me, stroking me, as he kissed and gently nipped at my legs, my belly, my buttocks. I didn't want him to stop, or to move away. I dreaded the emptiness I would feel without his flesh and bone inside me.

But slowly he pulled his hands free, licking his fingers clean, apparently unperturbed by where they had just been. I wondered if he had any sexual hang-ups at all… or just emotional ones?

"So beautiful," was all he kept saying as he continued to caress me gently everywhere, languidly moving his way up my body as he pulled himself back up on the bed and situated us both so that our heads were on the pillows. He pulled the covers gently up to my waist, but no further, as he nuzzled and fondled my breasts.

My arms wound around him, fingers toying with the damp curls on his neck. I was speechless, dazed.

"Are you okay?" he finally murmured as his face reached my neck. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. God, no. The opposite. Unless you can kill someone with an orgasm. Which I'm beginning to think is actually possible."

He chuckled softly into my neck. I could smell my sex on his face, and I was strangely okay with that. I intended to return the favor someday. I began to daydream about giving him head so amazing that he'd feel as languorous and useless afterward as I did now.

"I can't believe you're real," he whispered as he settled next to me, face to face, his head on my pillow. "You can laugh at this all you want, but I have to tell you that you have the most gorgeous pussy I've ever seen or smelled or tasted. It's perfect. It's fucking perfection. The scent of it makes me crazy. No girl smells like you, so sweet, so completely irresistible. It's insane."

I laughed a little as I stared at him. I had no idea how to respond to that. If I weren't so utterly spent, I would have been wet and ready again just listening to how much I turned him on.

"So I guess what you're saying is that you're pussy-whipped," I teased him.

His sleepy grin warmed me as much as his encircling arms. "I am definitely that. I was before I even saw it. So I feel very lucky right about now."

I shook my head as I smiled back at him. "You're the one who gets it backwards. I've never had anyone make me feel the way you make me feel. What you just did to me… there are no words."

"So we're both lucky," he admitted. I nodded in agreement. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. He stifled a yawn, then said, "Just you wait until I get my dick working again. You are going to be in so much trouble. Your pussy is going to be screaming for mercy."

My eyebrow raised. "You promise?"

"Such a naughty girl," he sighed, his eyes closing for a moment before he struggled to open them. "Keep it up and I'll give you a spanking."

"You keep it up and I'll let you," I giggled.

"Fuck, you're going to get my dick hard yet, aren't you?" His eyelids closed again, and I knew that our little game of slap and tickle would have to wait for another day. Maybe tomorrow, if he wasn't too hung-over, I thought wickedly.

But now it was time for rest. His eyes stayed closed and his face relaxed as he drifted into unconsciousness. I shifted my body so that the moon would illuminate his features. I don't know how long I stared at him before I finally succumbed to sleep. I was fascinated by his eyelashes, the longest I'd ever seen on a man. Likewise, his smooth complexion and deep-hued lips were almost too pretty, too feminine. Yet these unlikely features were assembled over a bone structure and punctuated with hair growth so strikingly masculine that it left no doubt as to which chromosome was in charge.

He had called me "beautiful" so many times in the past twelve hours that I lost count; but the man I was lucky enough to find lying next to me was the very definition of the word. Yet even with such physical perfection before me, it was nothing to his words, his expressions, his respect in the way he treated me. Those were the traits that gave him true - empirical - beauty.

His face was etched indelibly on the backs of my eyelids as I finally lost consciousness. I slept fitfully at first, not because I was uncomfortable with Edward in my bed, but because I felt a tiny thrill each time I rolled over and discovered him there. His body was always touching mine in some way, the contact between us remaining unbroken. He often sighed in his sleep and scooted closer, or brought his arm across me to pull me to him. His head never left my pillow; his soft breath tickled my face throughout the night. I snuggled into him and enveloped myself in the warmth of his skin, so much better than any blanket. I didn't know how I would ever sleep in this bed again without him in it.

At last I succumbed to a deep and exhausted sleep as the dawn approached. I faintly heard Edward get up and head for the bathroom, and I hoped he wasn't sick. The fan I ran in my bedroom every night helped block noises beyond my bedroom door. I had fallen asleep again by the time he returned, but I opened a sleepy eye as he crawled back into bed.

"Are you okay?" I mumbled, reaching for him as he pulled the covers back over us.

"I'll live," he answered rather unconvincingly.

"Poor baby," I sighed, rubbing my nose against his shoulder as I placed a protective arm over his troubled tummy.

"I brought it on myself." He rested his hand over my arm, his fingers finding mine.

I couldn't argue with that, and I couldn't stay conscious, either. By the time I awoke, the sun was trying valiantly to breach my blinds as it glared, full strength, around the window frame. I squinted at the window and realized that the blinds were shut. Edward must have closed them. I turned and reached for him, dismayed to find only a cold, empty space where his body had been.

A tiny seed of worry, even panic, sprouted in my belly. He hadn't left, had he? He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't sneak away in the morning, no matter how embarrassed he might feel about his drunken antics, or lack thereof.

Would he?

I jumped out of the bed and searched for some clothes, yanking the nearest sweats and t-shirt over my naked body. I bolted out of the bedroom and took a quick inventory of the apartment. I was relieved to hear Edward's voice, low and quiet, as he talked on his cell phone. He was sitting on the couch, fully dressed. So much for any thoughts I might have had about cuddling with him and serving him breakfast in bed, which I was fully prepared to do.

He ended the call as I approached the sofa. I suddenly felt uneasy and I didn't know why. I hated the feeling.

"You're up," I said lamely as I perched next to him on the cushions. He still looked tired, dark circles rimming his sunken eyes.

"Barely," he said with a rueful chortle. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"No, it's fine. I wish you had. How are you feeling?" Dumb question. I already knew the answer.

He shrugged. "Like I expected to feel. Thanks for the aspirin, by the way. And I helped myself to some orange juice - I hope that's okay."

"Of course it is. Anything I have is yours," I answered. In light of how intimate we had been hours before, I was almost insulted at his reserved politeness now. But I was more afraid than anything else.

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands kneading through his hair. He finally turned his head to look at me.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved last night. I was an idiot. You deserve better."

The anxiety in my gut only grew at his words. "You were fine. Everyone gets drunk now and then. It's not the end of the world."

He still looked disgusted with himself. "Yeah, well, you shouldn't have had to baby-sit me while I behaved like an irresponsible jackass. I knew that gig last night was a big step for your career, and I almost put that in jeopardy. That's inexcusable."

I shook my head in denial. "You seem to forget that you stayed out of the way for that very reason - so you wouldn't interfere while my bosses were there. You were extremely thoughtful, actually, even bombed off your ass. Although it didn't seem like it to me at the time."

A wry grin played at the corners of his mouth. "You had every right to be pissed at me. My showing up like that was a disaster from the very beginning."

The anxiety had teeth now, gnawing at my insides. "I don't know. I think things turned out pretty well." I studied his gloomy face. Didn't he remember anything about how great we were together? Or the heart-stopping things he said and did to me?

"There were some pretty amazing moments, if I recall correctly," he admitted, his grin growing. "Although if I'd been able to plan things, the evening would have gone much differently."

"Really? I wouldn't have changed a thing," I insisted. He gave me a look of extreme skepticism. "Okay, maybe one thing. But you more than made up for what I'm sure you consider to be a shortcoming."

He said nothing at first, just sighed; then he tentatively reached out and stroked my hair. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Be honest with me."

He really was too good to be true. And he did remember. Relief helped to still my anxiety for a moment. "You didn't hurt me, I swear. I'm feeling just the teeniest, tiniest bit sore in a couple of places, but that's normal, for me, anyway. I mean, it's been awhile." My eyes fell in embarrassment. I didn't want to admit that I hadn't had sex since Mike and I broke up late last year. I simply wasn't one to pick up guys for one-night stands, even though I certainly had plenty of chances in my line of work.

His hand moved to the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. His eyes were penitent. "I'm sorry. I should have gone slower. I should have waited until I was sober. I should have done a lot of things differently."

"Please don't do this," I begged quietly, hating the feeling of him backsliding into regret and self-blame. I didn't want to lose the Edward who teased me with goofy come-ons and took what he wanted, confident that I would want the same things. "I'm absolutely serious when I say I wouldn't change anything about last night. I'm just sorry that you're paying for it today." I reached out and mirrored Edward's movements, smoothing his hair and stroking the 24-hour beard growth that crept down his neck.

"I have felt better," he admitted with another wry smile.

"Why don't you let me make you breakfast? Sometimes some good, greasy hash browns and eggs are just what the doctor ordered for a hangover."

His face turned ashen. "Thanks for the offer, but I really can't eat anything just yet."

"That's okay." I continued to brush the side of his face with my hand, trying to comfort him. "Why don't you just lie down and sleep some more? I can make you lunch later. I can even hold your head if you need to throw up. I'm excellent at that - I have an iron stomach. Just ask Angela."

He grinned and looked down, shaking his head. "You're much better to me than I deserve. I'm afraid I'm the 'suffer in solitude' type. I'm going to head home and get out of your hair. I've been a big enough imposition on you already."

He was leaving. The anxiety had fangs now, slashing at my insides.

"Are you sure? I make a really good nurse maid. I'll take good care of you, I promise."

His eyes seemed pained as he looked at me. I swear I thought he might cry.

He swallowed and said, "You're amazing, you know that? You're incredible. Everything about you…." His words withered and died. He gulped again. "You're too good to me."

"You deserve it," I tried to convince him.

He looked down again, as if he had trouble holding my gaze. "I know we need to talk, but I really can't do this right now."

I exhaled shakily, hoping he didn't notice. "That's fine. We'll talk when you feel better."

He nodded and managed a glance at me. "Thank you." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the time, then rose from the couch. "My cab should be here any minute, so…." He gestured toward the front door.

The anxiety had ceased merely biting at me; it was now grabbing my heart and slamming it viciously against my ribs.

"Why did you call a cab?" I exclaimed as I jumped from the sofa. "I'd be glad to take you home."

"You've already done too much for me, Bella." He rested his hand on my collarbone, just as he had done in the bar last night when he begged to talk to me. Except then he was inviting me in with the gesture; now he was pushing me away.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, so lightly that I could barely perceive the contact. "I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

I watched helplessly as he walked across my living room and out the door. I didn't follow.

I spent the day in bed, wrapped in his scent. Even the stale alcohol and smoke that polluted it was a welcome reminder that he was here. I relived every moment of the past 24 hours, growing only more confused and disoriented the more I tried to make sense of the incredible highs and lows.

Exhausted, I finally gave up on the endeavor and ripped the sheets from the bed. I threw them in the bathroom hamper and then stepped in the shower, letting the clean, hot water wash away the remnants of Edward's touch from my body. When I came to the dirty bandage on my knee from the day before, I grasped the edge of the tape and gave it a vicious yank, pulling it off the wound in one swift movement. The skin was still raw and red. But once I let it breathe a bit, I knew a hard scab would form and protect the tender flesh beneath.

I'll heal. That's what I do.

* * *

_My reviewers have brought to my attention that it looks as if Edward was going to sneak home in the morning without telling Bella, which is not the case. Edward will get a chance to explain himself in the next chapter, if you are patient, and can still find it in your heart to give him a chance. _


	17. Stakes, part 1

**Thanks for all the great feedback, everyone. I know you've been waiting for a little explanation from Edward after the way he bolted at the end of the last chapter. He's got a some work ahead of him. That's okay...it's good for him. ;)**

**Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for the characters, and thanks to the actors who brought them to life. All have inspired me to come up with my own spin on things. It's too much fun not to!**

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**__**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Sunday, August 8**

Flowers, musk, sex.

Those were the first things to fill my nostrils when I awoke. Something silky tickled my nose. Bella's hair. I pushed my face into it, inhaling deeply. My fingers crawled toward it, grasping and winding and tangling. They didn't want to let go. They knew this was heaven.

I sighed into the silk, and the scent changed. Whiskey, beer, nicotine. My own stench rose up to assault my senses, reminding me of reality. My stomach roiled; my head throbbed. The much-deserved hell of my own making staked its claim and demanded that I deal with it.

I was going to be sick.

As the urgency of the situation became clear, I reluctantly pulled myself away from the warm sweetness of Bella and staggered out of bed, assaulted by the sour bile pushing up from my belly. I stumbled toward the door and wrenched it open. Racks of clothing on hangers hit me in the face when I stepped forward, disorienting me for a moment. As I realized my mistake, the soothing smell of Bella's closet stilled my quaking stomach for a moment. I paused to regroup as I looked around the room for the door to the hallway. Right before I swung the closet door shut, I spied something very familiar, yet incongruous, hiding in the corner behind the shoe boxes: a guitar case.

_Bella told me she didn't play, _my muddled thoughts insisted. _So why does she have a guitar?_

I had no time to ponder the significance of this. The biological drive to purge myself of last night's poison drove me quickly from the room and down the hall. I barely had time to close the bathroom door behind me as I fell to my knees before the porcelain throne. I stared for a second at the brand-new, unblemished toilet seat-the very contraption that had brought Bella into my life. She had bought it to cradle the ass of that grinning, kiss-stealing little shit, Jacob Black. I ignored the urge to christen it accordingly, and instead pushed it up and out of the way before heaving violently into the stool.

_Of all the low moments of my life, this might possibly be the lowest, _I thought as I flushed away the proof of my total idiocy. I shuffled to the bathroom sink and looked at myself in the mirror. What a fucking mess. Hair standing in cowlicks all over my head, eyes sunken into black sockets, stubble forming what was essentially a beard and mustache at this point, or soon would be. The only good thing about that was that Bella's sex clung to it tenaciously, and every breath reminded me of how lucky I was that she had let me bury my face between her beautiful legs last night. I couldn't even think about how insanely delicious she was, not while the bile in my mouth tainted the memory with its acrid taste.

I reached for the toothbrush and toothpaste on the vanity and scrubbed my mouth clean. I don't know why it had seemed so significant when Bella handed me my own toothbrush to use in her place. It was like some sort of stake that chained me here in her apartment, only I didn't balk at the captivity. Instead, I was shocked to find that I was happy to be shackled here, in her life. Why she would want me, I would never understand. I wondered if she would ever forgive me for my behavior last night. I had done so many things wrong, I didn't know how I'd ever make any of them up to her. Maybe I shouldn't try. Maybe I should uproot the stake and make a run for it while I could, sparing us a lot more heartache down the road.

I put the toothbrush back in its holder and sighed at the mirror. I knew I should shower or at least wash my face, but I didn't want to remove her scent from me. I opened the medicine cabinet so that I wouldn't have to look at my stupid mug anymore, and I stared at the pills there. The age-old hangover question presented itself: antacids or aspirin? Right now, the headache was worse, pounding my brain with rhythmic sledge-hammer precision. I wished Bella had some Alka-Seltzer.

I settled for the aspirin and headed for the kitchen. Dawn was just breaking, the sun's rays extending pale pink fingers through the kitchen window. There sat my glass of water from last night on the countertop where I'd left it. I suddenly remembered how unreal Bella had looked as the refrigerator light glowed around her. She had turned to get a water pitcher from the top shelf, and the boy shorts I'd always pictured her in taunted me mercilessly, riding up her ass cheeks and cutting across them, exposing a perfect handful of firm, round flesh on either side. I was lost after that. I had to have her. I didn't care how. I wanted her, and I took her.

She wanted to be taken, didn't she? It had seemed like it at the time. I hated how fuzzy everything was. Then again, I wished I could forget the humiliation of my impotence entirely. What the hell was that about? Holy fuck. That was a punishment from God, for sure, for all the mistakes I made-and continue to make-with this girl.

I poured myself a glass of orange juice and downed the aspirin. I wandered to the bedroom door and gazed at Bella, sound asleep, her hair spread in wild disarray across the pillow. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, bare-faced, naked and worked-over by my relentless lust the night before. Had I really done what I seemed to remember doing? Shit. Oh, shit. I had. I absolutely had. I had performed an act on her that I never dreamed of trying unless I'd been dating someone awhile, or happened to pick up someone who was on the kinky side during my bar-hopping days.

I went and sat on the couch in the living room, reaching back through the alcoholic residue in my mind to recall the details of the night. After piecing them together, I could only come to the conclusion that I really was a revolting piece of work. In the space of only twelve hours, I had gone from giving that lovely girl a first kiss to manually sodomizing her. What kind of perverted bastard does that?

I felt sick again. Either my stomach didn't appreciate the juice and aspirin combo, or it was so disgusted with me as a human being that it was trying to turn me inside out in a futile stab at absolution.

It was no use. I only felt worse after my second round of vomiting and then brushing away the sick from my mouth. As more memories began to fall into my consciousness like leaves to the earth, I realized that it wasn't just my obnoxious behavior that had me in turmoil. It was the fact that I had bared my soul. Admitted things. She knew everything now: how I'd fantasized about her, longed for her, wanted and needed her. Did I even tell her that I loved her? Not exactly, I didn't think; but the word had escaped my lips at some point. _Did_ I love her? It was so soon. I'd only known her a month. All the more reason to regret the way I'd violated her last night.

It was too much, too soon. All of it. I wasn't ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I don't know how to love someone - not the way a woman like her deserves to be loved, anyway.

You know this better than anyone, Tanya.

And the bitter, horrible truth that I never wanted to admit, but have to right now, is that I never loved you the way I already love Bella. I never loved you enough, or the right way. The way you wanted. The way you deserved. What kind of a man would I have been if I'd gone along with all of your dreams and plans, ignoring the voice inside me that kept telling me they weren't mine? It would have ended anyway. It had to. I don't know why you couldn't face that. I wish I could have helped you. You had to go and end everything with such finality, on your terms. You were always so fucking stubborn like that. Geezus, why didn't you get help when I begged you to?

I've asked these questions for three years now and I'll never have answers. But the difference now is that I have something to compare us to, and so far, there's no comparison. Things are so easy with Bella, when I allow them to be… when I let go of the ties binding me to the past and let her in. And yet, the prospect of being with Bella is more daunting than I ever imagined, because my feelings are so strong. They scare the hell out of me. I never thought the stakes could be higher than what I went through with you. But this feels so important that I am practically quaking in my boots. Because if I fuck things up with her the way I did you, I'll be the one who won't survive.

My mind churned with conflicting thoughts as I shuffled, Zombie-like, out of the bathroom and slowly headed for Bella's room. My first instinct was flight. The fight wasn't in me. I wanted space, time, and possibly a blood transfusion for the god-awful hangover. But my assholery of the night before would only be topped by my bolting from the scene of the crime, so I manned up and crawled back into bed with her.

I accidentally woke her, but she only smiled, wrapped her arm around me and told me she was sorry I didn't feel good. Like I deserved even an ounce of her pity. But I couldn't resist the pull of her body as she scooted closer and put her arm over me. I stared at her, lying so close, and took comfort in the heat of her skin wherever it touched mine. She was my remedy. But I didn't feel like I deserved one.

I passed out for awhile, and woke up to find myself spooning her, conforming my body to hers like a shell surrounding a precious pearl. I breathed her in for ages, trying to soothe the throbbing of my head by resting it on her chestnut hair. Part of me never wanted to leave her. It wanted the world to stop spinning and just let me lie here with her until she healed me completely through osmosis.

The other part wanted to run like hell and never look back. My shell was used to protecting me and no one else. It liked keeping people out, where they couldn't hurt me. Or maybe it was the other way around - maybe the shell was to keep me from hurting them. Either way, the armor usually came up a hell of a lot faster than I could lower it.

As the two opposing sides of me battled it out, I clung to Bella, kissing her hair, over and over. I already knew which side would win. I could feel myself withdrawing, and even her sleeping form couldn't anchor me here.

At last I tore myself away from her and made my way to the living room. I dressed quickly, donning the same t-shirt she'd worn yesterday while her clothes dried. Why did that seem so long ago? The t-shirt confirmed the passage of time, now reeking of stale bar smell instead of being permeated with her delicate scent. My fingers went on auto-pilot as they found my cell phone and dialed a cab.

_What the fuck are you doing, Cullen? You have to wake her up and at least tell her you're too much of a coward to stay here. _

I didn't get the chance. She appeared in the living room then, the most gorgeous example of morning-after dishevelment I'd ever laid eyes on. I wanted to carry her back into the bedroom and make love to her the rest of the day. I also wanted to crawl home with my tail between my legs and die quietly in my bed.

The conversation went as badly as I expected. The kinder she was to me, the faster my defenses mounted. A thousand things I wanted to say to her swirled around my aching head but could not seem to articulate themselves on my tongue. I tried to apologize; I tried to make her understand how wonderful she was, and how unworthy I was of her affection. I knew it came out all wrong, and it was nowhere near enough. I was acting like a jerk, a self-fulfilling prophecy with which I was all too familiar. I made sure that by the time I turned to leave, the look of hurt disillusionment she gave me was completely justified.

I threw up again the minute I got home. The commode and I had a torrid affair the rest of the afternoon, interrupted by bouts of fitful sleep. I no longer knew whether it was the alcohol or my self-destructive behavior making me ill. Maybe one caused the other. The cat surprisingly took pity on me, sparing me his reproving stares and curling up by my side while my body recuperated.

By evening, I started awake from my last doze as a horrible realization hit my now-sober brain: Bella probably thought I was going to leave her without so much as a good-bye this morning. I may be low, but even that would have been beneath me.

I grabbed the phone and dialed her number before I could lose my nerve. I was met with only the recorded version of her voice, asking me to leave a message. I couldn't figure out which was stronger, my relief or my disappointment.

"Bella, it's me, Edward," I began awkwardly. "I'm really sorry about the way I left this morning. The fact that I was sick as a dog is no excuse. I just want you to know that I never would have left without telling you. I was going to come wake you up when I got off the phone, but you beat me to it. I did so many things wrong last night that I'll never be able to make them up to you, but I at least wanted you to know that I would never leave you like that. I shouldn't have left at all, I know. But I couldn't understand why you'd even want me to stay. I figured you wouldn't be able to get rid of me fast enough, so I guess I was trying to beat you to the punch." I sighed, knowing how utterly lame all of that sounded. "I know I'm not helping things here. I don't blame you for not picking up. But maybe you'll let me talk to you after your appointment with Emmett this week. I hope so. Or you can call me back if you want to." I had no idea how to end this pathetic, rambling message. I finally just said "good-bye" and hung up, feeling worse now than I had before I called.

I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and managed to choke down most of it. I wondered if Bella was a good cook. I would have loved to let her make me breakfast, but I couldn't bear the thought of running to her toilet to heave it back up again, which most assuredly would have happened. Letting her see me so weak and vulnerable was simply more than I could bear, especially after my shortcomings last night. Now that I was lucid, I could admit to myself that that was the main reason I left so abruptly. It wasn't to spare her. It was to spare me. And now I had the unenviable task ahead of trying to make it up to her.

I watched the phone for awhile, as if I could somehow will it to ring by staring at it. Bella never called back. I didn't really expect her to, but a tiny ray of dumb hope remained in my soul; hope that I hadn't blown it completely, hope that she would forgive me and let me try again so I could get it right this time.

I finally gave up on the prospect for tonight and picked up my silent cell, scrolling through my contact list. I debated: Alice or Jasper? Alice would have my head on a platter after I told her the gist of what happened last night. So would Jazz, but he'd be a lot less judgmental and more matter-of-fact about the whole mess.

"Hey," he answered with his usual laid-back cool. "What's up, brother? You checkin' up to make sure I got your sister home in one piece last night?"

Shit, I'd forgotten all about their date. "No, actually, but now that you bring it up…."

Jasper chuckled. "I was a perfect gentleman. I picked her up promptly, escorted her out for a lovely meal and an art gallery opening, and then chastely kissed the back of her hand when I deposited her on your parents' doorstep before midnight."

That one made me laugh out loud, and it felt good. "Well, if that's the case, I'll bet I'm going to hear a different assessment of your evening from Alice. Did you really ride the ferry with her back to mom and dad's?"

"Of course I did. I wouldn't drop her off on the boat by herself late at night. What kind of lowlife do you think I am?" I could practically hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

"Oh, man. My mom is probably in love with you now. I mean, she was already, but now she's probably started planning the wedding reception for you and my sister. You realize that, right?"

He only laughed. "I think I've already resigned myself to the fact that I can't fight the two of them once they've started conspiring together. I can think of worse fates."

"Wow," I marveled. This was big. I knew how to read between the lines of Jasper's subtle comments. He must really like my sister. A lot. "So I take it the date went well?"

"Very well. I don't kiss and tell, of course. Especially since Alice is your sister. That would be gross." We both made similar shuddering noises of distaste. "But yeah… we had a great time. She's pretty special."

"Yeah, she is," I had to agree. I couldn't wipe the surprised smile off my face at the thought of my best friend and my sister hooking up. It would take some getting used to, but it made sense. And I actually really loved the idea of Jasper being my brother-in-law, if that's where this was heading. On the other hand, it could be disastrous if the whole thing didn't work out. I decided I'd better play an impartial third party as best I could.

"So, what's up with you? How did your non-date with Bella go yesterday?"

I sighed heavily. Where to begin? "The afternoon went pretty well. Better than well, for awhile, anyway. I kind of screwed it up by the end."

"What'd you do?" Jasper asked, sounding unsurprised.

"Well, we ended up back here at my place, and I not-so-gently reminded her that she'd better leave to go get ready for her date with Jacob Black."

"She's still going out with that guy?"

"Yeah. Well, she doesn't see it that way, but I'll bet he does. She was supposed to meet him for dinner before his band performed for some bigwigs from her label later on. It was all business, she said. But I don't trust that kid."

"You don't need to trust him," Jasper interrupted. "You need to trust her. Do you?"

I sighed again. "Yes. I knew all that and I still used their dinner date as an excuse to push her away. She even asked me to meet her later on at the club, but I told her I didn't want to be a fifth wheel."

"Ouch," Jasper said with a chortle. "Denied. You know why you're doing that, right?"

"Of course I do," was my resigned reply. "She's the first girl I've wanted to get close to since Tanya. I don't know if I'm ready."

"You're probably never going to be ready, at least in your head. You're just going to have to take the leap. Eventually you'll want to. You don't need to rush it," Jasper advised. "You haven't even known her that long. Test the waters a little longer. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're right, there's not. And that would be great advice, except that it's too late to take it. I already jumped off the deep end and now I'm treading water like hell."

"Geezus, what did you do?"

"I showed up at the club last night."

Jasper let out a whistle. "Okay, that's not so bad. She asked you to, right?"

"Yeah, she did. But it gets better. I met up with James first and got completely tanked before I grew the balls to go see her again."

Jazz groaned loudly. "I can't believe you called up that douche. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking. Unless my subconscious was trying to come up with the best way to fuck myself over in less than twenty-four hours." I continued to tell him an abbreviated version of the evening, since I prefer not to kiss and tell, either. I concluded with my Taxi Ride of Shame home and my pathetic phone call begging for forgiveness an hour ago.

Jasper was silent a moment. "I know a place where you can rent a stallion and a white flag, if you want to make a grand, romantic gesture of self-abasement."

"Ha ha. Not helping."

"Well, as I see it, you have two choices right now. Either you can walk away from this girl completely, or you can try like hell to win her back. It doesn't sound to me like she's written you off completely. She's probably smarting a little bit, though. You need to convince her she didn't do anything wrong, just in case she's blaming herself for some stupid reason. Have you considered telling her about Tanya?"

I shook my head, the thought causing something like a panic attack in my chest. "I've already had the chance to do that but I just can't… go there. I don't see what good it would do. This isn't about her."

"Isn't it?" Jasper countered. "I mean, if fear of getting close to someone again is the only thing holding you back, then maybe Bella needs to know what you've had to deal with."

"I know. I know you're right. It just feels like telling her would sort of… spoil our relationship. Bella is so different from Tanya, and what we have is already so much better, that I don't want to look back. I don't want the past to taint the present."

"Yeah well, wishing something doesn't make it so. If you can't talk to Bella, then why not see a shrink? It's been awhile. Maybe it could help you this time. Give you some better perspective."

"Maybe," I said reluctantly. I felt myself shut down completely at the thought. My experiences with counseling were useless, to the best of my recollection. I just didn't see the point of re-hashing everything, and I still don't.

Jasper sensed I was just about done with this topic. "Okay. If you don't want this to be over with Bella, then you need to do something to make it up to her. I wasn't kidding about the grand gesture. Call Alice. I'll bet she's got plenty of ideas for embarrassing ways you can try to win back Bella's affections," he said with a laugh.

"Oh, hell. I want to tell her about last night like I want to drill a hole in the middle of my forehead. Why do you think I called you first?"

"I hear ya," he laughed. "But she's required to forgive you-it's sibling law. Then you can put her devious mind to work for you."

"You seem to know my sister well, given the short amount of time you've spent together," I said suspiciously.

"Yeah, but I've known you a lot longer. I pay attention. You two have that weird juju going on. She'll have your back, and probably come up with a genius way to help you out."

"You're right," I admitted. "Hey, before I go, I've been thinking: if you and your band are having trouble finding rehearsal spots, you're welcome to use the downstairs here. Since I'm on the third floor, I probably won't even be able to hear you guys. And even if I can, that's okay. I have the feeling I'll be needing the distraction."

"Seriously? I may take you up on that. We've been using Stew's garage, but I'm sure his neighbors could use a break from the noise. I'll check with them and let you know."

"Sure. You're welcome any time. I'll give you a key," I offered.

After we hung up, I braced myself and called Alice. This time, it was definitely relief I felt when I got her answering service. I told her to meet me for lunch tomorrow at the café by the office. Jazz was right - it's time to whip out the big guns. And Alice will have the best ammo of anyone I know.


	18. Stakes, part 2

**The usual profuse thanks go out to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting my story...you rock my world. And so does the inimitable Stephenie Meyer, who owns these characters and turns a blind eye while I play fast and loose with them. **

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**__**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Monday, August 9**

"You left."

Two simple words. Yet the accusation implied in my sister's judgmental tone and glare made it sound like my actions were worthy of the guillotine.

"I know, I know. I should have stayed and cuddled and all that bonding morning-after stuff that girls always want," I sighed. I dipped a French fry in catsup and morosely gnawed on it.

"Don't make me hit you. I will give you a black eye," she threatened. She'd done it before, when we were kids. I'd hacked off her Barbie's hair in retaliation for Alice forcing my GI Joe to attend an imaginary prom with the plastic blonde. I was incensed that a valiant soldier of war like GI Joe had been made to suffer such a frivolous, girly indignity. Alice begged to differ.

"Don't bother," I said. "I've been beating myself up enough for the both of us."

"I doubt that," she contradicted me. Her face softened slightly as she studied my dejected expression. "Were you really that sick?"

"I lost count of how many times I hurled. If I had done that at Bella's place all day, I would have had to castrate myself and hand my balls to her at the end of it. Seriously. I couldn't stay there."

"But you called a cab while she was still asleep? Have Mom and I taught you nothing?" she began, and I feared she would continue the verbal tirade she'd launched during the first half of my cheeseburger. "I mean, you _like_ Bella, right? She's not just one of your mutual and forgettable one-night stands. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong. I tried to tell her that. I called to apologize and I got her voice mail. I haven't heard back."

"Hmmm. Well, either she didn't get the message, or she's still upset and she's letting you stew in your own juices. And you deserve to marinate for awhile."

"Fine. We've established that I'm a scumbag. Can we please move on to the redemption phase of this conversation? I'm trying to figure out the best way to make it up to her."

Alice sucked on her soda straw thoughtfully, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Well, I think the traditional methods of groveling are definitely too cheesy. You know, flowers, mushy cards, Peter Gabriel tunes playing from a boom box held up outside her window," she grinned. I gave her a withering look before she continued. "Although, you know, studies do show that flowers are the one gift that always make a woman smile. It's impossible to look a bouquet in the face and not appreciate the beauty of nature."

I tried to envision Bella's expression when the florist graced her desk at work with cascades of Gerbera daisies. Would she smile at the bright colors, or sneer at the "please forgive me" card attached?

"Are you seriously suggesting that sending flowers is going to make her stop hating me for walking out on her?"

"Well, I doubt very much that she hates you," Alice said in rather grudging consolation. "I mean, it sounds like you said all the right things. It's just that the abrupt actions you took are probably screaming a lot more loudly right now."

"Okay, fine. Then I need an action to counteract that. Something big. Something impressive."

"Edward, I think you're missing the point," she sighed as she speared some salad on her fork. "I'm sure that all she wants from you is a little bit of honesty. She probably just wants to understand what went wrong, or to know for sure if it really did go that wrong. She's probably feeling as uncertain about everything as you do." I was surprised at this bit of advice. It was pretty down-to-earth for a girl who was so fond of grand gestures and epic moments. Maybe Jasper's low-key sensibility was rubbing off on her.

"Who are you, and what have done with my sister?" I asked suspiciously.

She let out a small laugh. "Here's the thing: maybe you should listen to that little voice inside you that made you want to escape. Figure out if why it's telling you to back off, and whether or not you really want to. I think you need to be sure you really want to move ahead with this relationship before you do anything else. I mean, I know what I think you should do, and what I think you ultimately want to do. But if you just blindly charge ahead and then change your mind again, you won't just be hurting yourself this time. You'll be hurting Bella, too."

I stared at Alice, stunned at this newfound clarity of hers. Cautiousness was not in her repertoire - that had become my specialty the past couple of years. So hearing this from her took me by surprise, to say the least.

"I think it may be too late for that. I think maybe I already hurt her. And God knows it's the last thing I ever wanted to do," I added quietly, pushing my plate away. I'd lost my already tepid appetite.

"Is it so bad for you to ask her for a little bit of time to think about this? Maybe there's a reason she never called back. Maybe she feels like she needs a little space herself. Maybe things went too quickly for her, too, and now she's worried that she's blown it with you. She may be thinking the opposite of what you assume she's thinking. Either way, it's probably not as bad as you presume. You always see the glass half-empty," she sniffed, taking another sip of her soda.

"Before I left, I told her that I knew we needed to talk, but that I just couldn't do it that minute. But I'm afraid it sounded like a brush-off."

"You've already apologized for that, even if it was via voicemail," Alice reminded me. "I know it's hard, but you may need to just wait it out until she's in your office again. When's her next appointment with Emmett?"

"Wednesday afternoon," I answered. I already knew Bella came every Wednesday, late in the day. I used to make sure I had an appointment scheduled then, so I could avoid the temptation of seeing her. This week, I made sure I'd be available.

"So take a couple of days to figure out what you really want to say. That way you won't jerk her around anymore, no matter what you decide."

I studied my baby sister through narrowed eyes. I felt like I was watching her mature right in front my eyes. It was a bit of a revelation. I was now realizing how much I relied on her youthful optimism to pull me out of my deep abysses. Obviously, it was time for me to grow up, too. Way past time.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," I told her as I drained my iced tea. "I was completely ready to pull any crazy stunt you suggested to get Bella back, no matter how humiliating it might be. You just missed a golden opportunity."

She grinned and shrugged. "Eh, what I just told you may have been a bunch of hooey. Maybe I was just buying time so I could think of something outrageous," she winked.

I laughed, pretty sure she was joking, but not entirely. I waited and watched the wheels churn in her head for a moment.

"Ooh! I know. You want a big gesture? You can't get much bigger than Mom's party next weekend!" she suddenly exclaimed.

I stared at her blankly before I realized what she was talking about. "You mean the Black and Red Ball? You want me to ask Bella to a boring fund raiser?" I had forgotten that the date was fast approaching. Ever since Mom's older sister died prematurely of heart disease a decade ago, Mom and her brother Bill have hosted an annual dinner to raise money for Go Red For Women. Because February weather is so unpredictable, they usually schedule the party in late summer at Uncle Bill's estate in The Highlands. It's a very elegant affair, with plenty of Seattle's elite in attendance. Most of them probably come so they can nose around the old family estate while enjoying an outdoor dinner and dance in its expansive gardens overlooking the Sound.

I'd always disliked the event because I had to wear a suit and tie and be on my best behavior all night. Besides, it always made me miss the times I'd spent at Aunt Jeanne's place, listening to her awesome music collection. Most of my records had been hers. It made me laugh that Mom and Uncle Bill had come up with such a highbrow event to honor a woman who was so laid-back. Mom always reminded me that it was about raising money to save other women like Jeanne, and catering to Seattle's deepest pockets was the best way to go about it.

"It's only boring to us because we've had to do this every year since we were kids," Alice argued. "To most people, it's an opportunity to have a fancy dinner in a gorgeous setting, and contribute to a good cause in the process. I'll bet Bella would love to come with you."

"You think so?" I asked skeptically. The girl had told me she didn't own a pair of high heels. She lived in t-shirts and jeans. She reminded me a lot of Aunt Jeanne, actually.

"You won't know unless you ask. It's a thought, anyway. At least you'd have fun for a change if she were there. And for once, you'd be bringing a date that Mom and Dad would actually approve of."

"Nice. Thanks," I said sourly. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if Alice wasn't crazy like a fox. Even if Bella didn't want to go, maybe she'd appreciate the gesture. After all, it was for a good cause. And the garden maze would certainly be fun to explore with her. In fact, there were a couple of secret spots where we could sneak away from the party entirely and make one of our own.

What the hell was I thinking, imagining such a thing? Wasn't one taboo sex act enough without adding outdoor fornication to the list?

My cell phone vibrated in my pants, and for a second I wondered if my errant dick had set it off. I pulled out the phone and was shocked to see a text message from Bella's number.

_Hi Edward - sorry I missed your call last night; must have been in the shower. Didn't hear your message until just now. Please stop apologizing for the weekend. I know you didn't feel well yesterday. It's fine. We can talk Wednesday after my app't. w/Emmett. ~Bella_

A dozen different thoughts duked it out in my mind at once. _Thank God, she's not mad. She was in the shower. She wants to talk on Wednesday. Damn… Bella in the shower. Why doesn't she want to talk sooner? Maybe Alice is right and she wants some time to think, too. Mmm, Bella showering….. Why did she text instead of call? Maybe she's afraid to talk to me. Why? Does she use a washcloth or one of those nylon loofah things? Why didn't I look in her shower when I had the chance? _

"Edward, what is it? Is something wrong?" Alice's voice interrupted my mental breakdown.

"I don't know," I admitted, passing her the phone. She read the message, keeping her face carefully composed.

"She wants to talk to you. That's good, right?"

I eyed her skeptically. "You don't sound convinced."

"Well… she did text instead of calling. And she agreed to talk to you, but two days from now. So I'd say you're not out of the woods yet. But you will be, I'm sure of it," she ended with forced cheer.

"That's it, I'm sending her flowers," I announced as the waitress dropped our bill on the table.

"It can't hurt," Alice agreed, giving me a somewhat sympathetic look as we rose from our booth. I fished out enough money for the bill and a tip while she pronounced me "the best big brother ever."

"No, just the biggest pushover," I smiled.

"Don't worry, I'll figure out a way to pay you back," she grinned mischievously. I wasn't sure I liked that look. "You know, Edward, if you think about it long enough, I'm sure you'll know exactly what to do to make it up to Bella."

"You think so, huh?" I asked dubiously as she walked me back to Cullen and Cullen PC.

"I have faith in you," she said, reaching up and giving me a peck on the cheek before I went inside.

"Glad someone does," I muttered to myself as I entered the office.

My next client hadn't arrived yet, so I made a quick call to the closest flower shop and ordered two dozen Gerbera daisies to be sent to Bella at Java Noise. I felt like a bit of a moron doing it, but I decided some sort of peace offering couldn't hurt, no matter how clichéd. When the florist asked me what to put on the card, I told them simply, "Looking forward to Wednesday." Bella did tell me to stop apologizing, after all.

I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting. After each appointment, I would check my phone, hoping to hear some kind of confirmation that she'd received the flowers. Twice I was disappointed. Finally, after my third appointment, I was greeted with the following:

_Gerberas - my favorites. You remembered. They're beautiful, thank you. Looking forward to Wednesday, too._

A bit of blessed relief filtered through my body. She didn't seem mad. Maybe the flower idea wasn't as lame as I'd feared. I quickly texted back.

_Of course I remembered. I'm glad you like them. But I'm sure they pale in comparison to their recipient._

Too much? Maybe. I hit "send" anyway.

Her reply arrived before my next client did.

_Very smooth, Mr. Cullen. You always know the right thing to say._

I snorted out loud at that. I replied: _I wish that were true._

Jessica poked her head through the door to inform me my next client was here. My phone vibrated in my hand and I stole a look at Bella's answer.

_You hit the mark more often than you realize. See you Wednesday._

I couldn't wipe the smile from my face as I put my phone away. I didn't need two days to think about it. If I still had a chance with Bella, I wasn't going to blow it. I would do whatever took to get it right this time.

**Wednesday, August 11**

I wish cats could talk.

Lucky is currently staring me down with this superior expression on his face that makes him appear as if his tiny brain contains all the secrets of the universe. If it does, I wish to God he'd clue me in.

The past forty-eight hours leading up to seeing Bella were interminable. The clock was an enemy whose face became aggravatingly familiar as the minutes marched slowly by. Each massage appointment seemed to drag on forever, but at least I was occupied while I was at work. When the night fell, I begged Jasper to bring his band over to practice, or let me crash their rehearsals. Thankfully, he was game to keep me from losing my marbles. Monday night I hung out in his drummer's garage, listening to the trio try to work out a tricky bridge in the middle of one of their original numbers. Last night they hauled their gear over to my place and jammed for awhile on the ground floor, even letting me improvise on a few numbers. They loved the acoustics in the old mill, so I know they'll be back, thank God. Maybe they'd like to come back tonight. I should call Jasper right now.

Or maybe I should try to figure out what the hell just happened.

My last client left shortly after 4 p.m. Bella was already in Emmett's office for her chiropractic work. I went out to the front desk to tell Jessica that I needed to see Miss Swan for a moment before she left, and to show her back to my office. Bella had never actually been in my office, because I really only use it to finish up paperwork and take care of some of the more mundane tasks in between massage sessions.

And now, I paced. I tried to actually accomplish something at the computer, or with my files, or even just rearrange my desk; but I could concentrate on nothing. So I paced. And I sweated. And I couldn't believe how nervous I was, nor how badly I wanted to see Bella. She hadn't left my mind since Sunday, but even my most vivid fantasies came nowhere close to the real thing. I needed to see her. More than that, I wanted to touch her, smell her, taste her. Remembrances of Saturday evening kept coming back to me, splicing themselves together like reels of film in my booze-ravaged brain, creating a more linear moving picture of everything that had transpired between us. Reminding me just how amazing she was, and how lucky I'd been that she'd let me paw her and devour her over and over like some kind of insatiable animal in heat. I wanted to do it again. And I wanted her to do the same to me.

_Shit. Stop it. Stop thinking with your dick before she walks in this room_, my humanity demanded. I took deep, cleansing breaths and tried to tame the beast.

And then she knocked on my door, and every urge I had retreated under the blanket of anxiety that enveloped me. I took another deep breath and tried to calm down as I headed for the door. I reminded myself that I had a plan, and I'd already put it in motion. This morning I had arranged for Katrina to start treating Bella so that I could no longer use ethics as an excuse to keep her at arm's length. I was going to be the kind of man she deserved. And I was going to start by asking her on a formal date. I figured it didn't get much more formal than my family's Black and Red Ball.

I opened the door to see her standing there alone, the sound of Jessica's heels clicking down the tiled hallway behind her as she returned to the reception area. I found myself inhaling again sharply at the sight of Bella still in her work clothes, a surprisingly feminine cotton blouse and slacks. I had figured that at an indie label, the dress code was probably shredded denims and a concert tee. Then again, knowing Rosalie Hale, maybe she required her assistant to be a little more professionally attired. Bella's hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, even my favorite errant lock tamed and put in its place. I found that a little disconcerting.

But then the chocolate drops gazed up at me and drew my full attention: heart-breakingly beautiful, and every bit as anxious as mine. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her, but I felt awkwardly frozen to the spot.

"Hi," I finally breathed, somehow finding my tongue. "You look great. Come in." I managed to step back and beckon her into the office.

"Thanks," she said, blushing slightly. Her eyes swept the small room for a moment, then settled on the two chairs in front of my desk.

"Have a seat," I offered, pulling out one of the chairs for her. As she sat down, I grabbed the other chair and turned it to face hers, sitting directly opposite her. Our knees were nearly touching. She folded her hands tightly in her lap and stared cautiously up at me.

"How are you?" I asked her.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Good. It's been really busy at work, getting the band signed, helping them find good representation, starting the pre-recording process, figuring out which studio to use…." Her ramble trailed off as she bit her lip. "There's a lot to do. How about you?"

"I've been keeping busy," I replied. "Jasper's band has started rehearsing in my building downstairs, so that's been kind of fun."

"Really? That's cool. I'd like to hear them sometime." Her smile was polite, reserved.

I sighed and rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. "Why is this so awkward? I don't want this to be awkward. I want things to be okay between us." I searched her eyes for some reassurance.

Her answering sigh sounded like one of relief. "I want that too. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. That's why it bothered me when you left like that. It felt like you were shutting me out again."

"I'm sorry. I know that's what I was doing, and it was a knee-jerk reaction. I haven't let myself get close to someone in awhile, and all of a sudden it just felt like too much, too soon. Like we were moving too fast. I guess I panicked. It was stupid, and thoughtless, and I'm sorry." I couldn't stop the words, and the apology, once they started spilling out.

She still looked a little troubled. "So… how do you feel now?"

I let the Hershey's syrup surround me as I looked deeply into her eyes. If I was going to drown, this was the perfect place to do it.

"I feel like I don't want to let the panic win anymore. Like I don't want to be so careless trying to protect myself that I hurt other people in the process."

She nodded but was silent, waiting for more. I took a deep breath.

"I'd like the chance to start over with you. To do things right this time. You know, actually ask you out on a proper date, take you someplace nice, treat you the way you deserve to be treated." Her slowly growing smile gave me some long-awaited comfort. "I don't want to blow it this time with you," I finished.

She shook her head, her smile wry. "You didn't blow it, Edward. We don't have to start over completely. I kind of like where we are now, getting to the middle of things."

"Yeah?" I replied uncertainly. "But we went from our first kiss to… some pretty heavy stuff, in about twelve hours' time. I don't want you think this is all about sex for me. You mean more to me than that. I want this to be more."

She still looked curiously perturbed, and I couldn't quite figure out why. Wasn't this the kind of stuff girls wanted to hear? Unless she didn't feel the same way about me….

"I never thought it was just about sex. That's not how it seemed to me. I guess you really don't remember our weekend very well," she said. The tiny line would not leave the middle of her brows. I had to figure out a way to erase it.

"I do remember," I insisted, then faltered at the look on her face. "I'm pretty sure I do. A lot of it was really wonderful. But I feel like we missed a few steps somewhere over the past few weeks. I just want to do this the right way." I couldn't seem to find the right words to tell her that she was more than a one-night stand to me, and that I wanted what we had to grow into something strong and lasting.

"Maybe there is no right or wrong way," she suggested. "Maybe we can just do things _our_ way."

I looked at her in surprise. _She must be the most understanding girl alive, _I thought.

"That sounds very wise," I agreed. "But just to be clear, getting bombed and performing questionable sex acts on a girl I really like and respect is not my idea of the right way to do things," I asserted, feeling the need to set the record straight.

The line deepened between her eyebrows, which was not the reaction I was hoping for.

"So what is the right way to do things, in your opinion?" she asked. I suddenly felt like this was a test. I hoped my answer would let me pass with flying colors.

"Well, I'd like to make all of that up to you, if you'll let me," I began.

"You already sent me flowers, and that was more than enough. They're gorgeous," she interrupted.

"Not too cheesy?"

"No! I told you I love Gerberas. I can't help but smile every time I look at them." _Damn that Alice, she knows her stuff._

"Well, I'm glad. But I had something a little bigger in mind. I'd like to ask you on a formal date. And when I say 'formal,' I mean that literally. My family hosts a big fund-raising dinner every year for the American Heart Association, which doesn't sound like much fun, but it's actually a pretty cool evening."

"The Black and Red Ball?" she asked, her tone oddly hesitant.

"Yeah, you've heard of it? It's kind of a big society event, I guess. I know you may not think of that as your kind of party, but it's actually pretty nice, with a really excellent dinner and a formal dance afterwards with an orchestra and a band. It sounds kind of stuffy, I'm guess, but my Uncle Bill's estate is really beautiful, and there's a huge garden maze that we could escape to if it gets too boring." _Way to undersell it, Cullen. _I halted and studied her face, but I couldn't understand her expression of faint dread.

"Anyway, it's a week from this Saturday. I'd be honored if you would be my date this year. I'd love to introduce you to my mom. I think you two would really hit it off." That last bit kind of shocked me when it popped out of my mouth. But now that it was out there, I didn't want to take it back. If Bella hadn't thought I was serious before, she surely did now.

Her face looked unusually pale and her eyes shifted around uncomfortably. God, what did I do now? Was the idea of meeting the mom too much? Were we doomed to keep scaring each other to death before we ever got this relationship off the ground?

"Wow," she finally said, her voice still hushed. She let out a humorless laugh. "I would love to attend the Black and Red Ball with you… but… I'm already going with someone."

I stared at her, uncomprehending. Surely I hadn't heard that last part right.

"Um… you're already going? But that's impossible. It's extremely hard to get tickets. They're very pricey and exclusive. I should know," I said. I felt like I was boring holes through her with my disbelieving gaze.

"That's the funny thing - the tickets actually came from your brother," she said with a slightly hysterical chuckle. She looked horribly uncomfortable, and at the moment, I couldn't seem to feel too bad about that.

"My brother," I repeated in a none-too-happy tone.

She cleared her throat. "He invited Rosalie to be his date, and when she found out what the cause was, she asked him about the possibility of Java Noise buying a table at the event so that several of our employees could attend. She thought it would be a great opportunity to get the label some exposure and 'hobnob with some of Seattle's movers and shakers,' as she put it," Bella explained. At least she seemed as unhappy to tell me this as I was to hear it.

I began to put the puzzle pieces together, and I didn't like the picture that was appearing. "So Emmett arranged for your company to purchase a table. Good PR, tax write-off… I get it. Do I need to ask you who's going to be representing your label?" If she said his name, I was going to lose it. I'd have to keep myself from losing it somehow. I could feel my hands forming fists as I shoved them under my thighs.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks growing pink. "The president of the company, of course, and his wife; our A&R VP and his wife; and me, as Rosalie's assistant, along with a member of our latest acquisition, to represent the talent." Her eyes were pleading now. She didn't want to say his name any more than I wanted to hear it. So why did I force her?

"Of course. Sam Uley would be the obvious choice, right?" I needled her. I couldn't stop myself. The realization of what was happening was too galling to take it lying down.

Her face was scarlet now. "It would be, except that he'll be back home visiting his girlfriend Emily for her birthday," she explained.

I wondered if my face looked as rigid as it felt while I tried to keep my composure. I could feel my nostrils flaring like a stallion's. The thought of her on Jacob Black's arm all night at the ten-year anniversary of my aunt's memorial dinner made my blood boil so hot I was sure there must be steam coming out of my ears.

"Edward, please," Bella entreated, leaning forward and placing her hand on my knee. This first touch from her since our last time together was like a flame-thrower engulfing my thigh. "You know this is nothing but business. You know I would give anything to be there with you instead."

I was fairly certain of that, especially given the frightened look in her eyes right now.

"Were you going to tell me about this? Or were you just going to show up and surprise me?" I asked, failing to keep the bitterness from my tone. I knew she probably got railroaded into the whole affair by Rosalie, but I still couldn't keep my irrational resentment of Jacob Black from seeping out around the edges.

Bella leaned back, freeing my knee from her warm grip. "Well, it's not like _you_ asked me. You didn't even tell me about this family party of yours. For all I know, you already have another date," she accused.

I wish I had a picture of the stupefied look on my face at that moment, because I truly couldn't believe what I had just heard fall from Bella's lips.

"How the hell could you even think that?" I demanded.

"You could have asked someone before we even met," she clarified. "How was I supposed to know you weren't already going with Kate or something?"

I let out a derisive laugh at the absurdity of the idea. "You've really got to get over this weird phobia you have about Katrina, especially if she's going to be treating you from now on. We met in massage therapy school, she's a good friend of mine, and that's it. End of story."

Bella's eyes were huge, incredulous black holes as she gaped at me. "What did you just say?" she whispered, her voice trembling with what sounded like rage.

I desperately tried to remember the words I'd just uttered in the heat of the moment. "We're just friends, Bella. That's all it will ever be," I tried to assure her.

"No. The part about Kate treating me from now on," she said in a low, shaky tenor.

_Shit. _This was not how I had planned to break that bit of news to her. I suddenly found myself in the defensive position.

I took a deep breath and said, "I arranged for you to start seeing her for your therapy. Surely you understand that I can't keep treating you, after everything that's happened between us."

Her head shook violently from side to side. "No, I don't, actually. All I understand is that you've helped me when no one else could." Her eyes quickly lost their anger and were beseeching instead. "You know me, Edward. You know my body, and what I need. I don't want anyone else touching me but you," she whispered plaintively.

Were we still talking about massage therapy? As I sank into the dark pools staring up at me, I could think only of making love to her again, worshipping her with my hands and my mouth and my body. I didn't know if that was what she was getting at; if that was what she really wanted. But I did know it was pure folly to confuse it with my vocation.

"Bella," I said hoarsely, reaching tentatively toward her. I wanted to brush my favorite lock of hair out of her face, but it was nowhere to be found. My thumb stroked her bare cheek gently. "Please try to understand. I have to separate this from work from now on. I can't do it any other way. It's too hard for me."

She shook her head again in refusal, her face scrunching up pitifully. I knew tears would be falling soon. I couldn't take it. "You've already admitted yourself what a bad idea it is to mix your personal life with business. If I were a doctor, it would be illegal for me to treat you. You know that."

"But you're not a doctor," she said matter-of-factly.

My hand froze in place, then dropped away and came to rest on my lap. She knew how that well-placed barb would sting. We stared at each other a moment, a sad resignation settling over us. It was the empty victory of that moment when you know someone well enough to hurt them, and you do it deliberately. We had just taken our first intentional shots at each other. It was another milestone in our relationship; another that was reached too soon.

I finally tore my eyes from hers and reached over to my desk, retrieving Katrina's card from where I'd placed it. I had planned to give it to Bella after delivering the good news that we could see each other freely and openly now because my professional obligations to her would be coming to an end.

"Please, Bella," I implored her as I handed her the appointment card. "Don't compromise your treatment because of anything that's happened between us. You're getting to the point where you won't need to see a massage therapist regularly anymore, anyway. And Katrina is excellent at what she does. I hope you'll give her a chance."

Bella took the card from me and looked at it a moment. I tried to read the expression on her face, but could come up with nothing to call it except "extremely upset."

"All right," she said quietly. She reached for the small handbag that still hung over one arm and placed the card inside. She rose from her chair, and a wave of panic rolled through my gut.

"Don't leave," I begged, jumping to my feet. "I'm sorry I flew off the handle about the Black and Red Ball. It's not your fault that I didn't ask you sooner. It came up a lot faster than I realized."

"It's okay," she replied. "I really didn't want to go, especially if it might lead Jake on. Believe it or not, I do care about sparing his feelings. But Rosalie can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be. And, well, she is my boss."

"I know. It's fine. It'll be fine. Maybe I can cut in for a dance or two," I tried to joke.

She gave me a rather pained smile.

"Can I take you to dinner or something?" I asked, desperate to keep her from leaving.

"I'm already meeting Angela for dinner, actually," she said. She looked down a moment, then took a deep breath before lifting her eyes to mine. "You know, Edward, I think you might have been right about us missing a few steps… going too fast. Maybe we should slow down; take a little time to think about things."

My eyes closed; my heart sank. I should have known that my bright ideas would come back to bite me in the ass.

"What are you saying?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"Maybe we should take a little break. See how we feel about everything the next time we see each other." She didn't sound convinced of her suggestion.

"And when would that be?" _You really are a glutton for punishment, Cullen._

"Well, since I won't be seeing you for massage therapy anymore, then I guess that would be at the ball," she replied.

_Touche, Miss Swan._

I nodded and said simply, "I look forward to it."

I looked forward to seeing her with MonkeyBoy all night the way I looked forward to a root canal, I thought grimly as I watched her hurry down the hall from my office. But how could I argue against her desire for some space, when I knew it was probably for the better anyway?

It didn't mean I had to like it, though.

"What should I do, Lucky?" I just asked the tiny fur-covered swami next to me on the couch. I've been half-heartedly scratching and petting him since I dragged my sorry ass home, and even my absent-minded affections have been enough to keep him purring contentedly beside me.

He squinted his eyes a couple of times and purred more loudly, the rumbling noise oddly comforting.

"So you're saying there's not much I can do, and that I need to take it in stride," I offered. He squinted again, and I swear his mouth curved up a little more in a feline grin.

"Easy for you to say," I grunted.

I don't know how I'm going to stay away from her for ten days. I could barely get through the last three without seeing her. But maybe she's right - maybe the time apart will bring us some clarity about where we stand with each other. Obviously today's communication breakdown was a red flag. I need to figure out what went wrong, and how to make it right. Maybe Alice is right, too - if I really think about it, I'll figure out exactly how to make it up to Bella. What would she really love? What would really touch her? Not fancy parties or flowers, but something real and from the heart.

And then, with the speed and brilliance of a lightning bolt, clarity came.

"Sorry, Lucky," I announced as I gave him a final pat and rose from couch. "I've got work to do."

I picked up my notebook and headed straight for the piano.


	19. Anticipation, part 1

**Thanks for your support, everyone... you know who you are. I am very grateful for all of it.**

**I own none of Stephenie Meyer's characters; I'm just borrowing them for awhile.**

**And now for a glimpse into Bella's mind the past few days...**

_**

* * *

**__**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Monday, August 9**

"Wow. Those are gorgeous!" Rosalie exclaimed from the doorway between our offices.

We both stared at the profusion of brightly-colored daisies that dwarfed my desk from a large glass vase.

"Yeah, they are," I agreed. I couldn't remove the tiny grin that was fixed upon my face. Edward had remembered my favorite flower, which I had mentioned in passing on Saturday when we were just shooting the breeze. As gestures went, flower-sending was tried and true for a reason. Our text message "conversation" after I received them had gone well, too, with Edward giving me the extravagant compliment that they couldn't compare to me. I wasn't surprised at his poetic words; just giddy that they were aimed at me.

"Are those from Edward?" Rose asked incredulously. I nodded, still smiling. "Shit, what did he do?"

My smile finally faded. "What makes you think he did something?"

"It's not your birthday, is it?" she checked. I shook my head. "Then a bouquet this big can only be an apology for something."

I sighed and decided to spill the beans, at least the PG version, of what happened Saturday night. Rose sat down on the chair across from my desk and listened, her eyes growing rounder as I continued my tale. I left out the personal details, especially about Edward's "equipment malfunction;" but she definitely got the gist that we were intimate.

"You have to promise not to tell Emmett," I concluded. "I don't think Edward has said anything to him about having feelings for me. If he still does," I added uncertainly.

Rose gave the massive bouquet another gander and said, "Oh, he still does, trust me. He remembered your favorite flowers despite all the drunken mayhem later on. But my question is, what are _your_ feelings after all this? Are you as upset as he seems to think you are?"

That was an excellent question. By the time I discovered Edward's apologetic voicemail on the cell phone I'd neglected in my purse, I'd convinced myself that he regretted what had happened between us, and I was bracing myself for the return of Mr. Cullen, Massage Therapist Only, the next time I saw him. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I was frightened at how much more I wanted from him than that.

He had awakened something inside me that I didn't even know was there - something primal and visceral. My entire being literally ached for him after he left. One night with him was all it took for me to want more; to yearn for his body next to mine as I slept. Instead, sleep was elusive last night while my imagination worked overtime, picturing the things we would do if he were there beside me, under me, over me. The oneness I'd felt with him when he'd grasped me so tightly and told me he needed me was the thing that I now craved like no other. I was shocked at how suddenly he felt like my other half, and how bereft I was when he was missing. I was scared to death that he'd never let me - or himself - feel that union again; that he would deny us both.

I wished I could understand better why he would do such a thing. Wouldn't it be easier for him to just give in and be happy? Could he really be that afraid that I would hurt him? The idea was unthinkable to me. I just wanted to be with him, plain and simple. I was amazed at how quickly the desire had come over me. For the past nine months I had been happily single, for the most part. I'd been concentrating on graduating and getting my career off the ground, and a serious relationship was the last thing on my mind.

But when it came to Edward, it seemed that there was no middle ground. His arrival in my life felt hugely important, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. I could understand his hesitancy in giving himself over to it completely. After all, I had balked for a moment myself at the prospect of jumping in with both feet. But it seemed far too late to turn back now, to me anyway. I couldn't bear the thought that it didn't seem that way to him.

The first thing I felt when I heard Edward's message to me on my lunch hour was profound relief. He wasn't writing us off. He wanted to make things right. But the more I listened to it, the more worried I was about his comments that "he had done so many things wrong that he didn't know how he'd make them up to me." What was so wrong, I wondered? I'm sure he didn't feel great about the way he'd showed up at the bar and skulked around spying on me, but that was inconsequential in light of everything that happened afterward.

I wondered if he remembered any of the wonderful things he'd said to me. The way he had wiped my insecurities away with one incredulous look; one reverent kiss. The way he had brought me to heights of physical ecstasy that I never even dreamed existed. Was he sorry about all of that? Why the hell would he think I "wouldn't be able to get rid of him fast enough" the next day? I couldn't help but worry over the difference the cold morning light had revealed in our viewpoints.

The arrival of the flowers spelled out that difference in vivid, colorful detail. He thought that whatever he had done required some kind of grand gesture of apology. As I stared at the innocent daisies now, I grew increasingly nervous over what, exactly, Edward felt sorry for.

I looked at Rosalie's inquisitive face and tried to articulate how I was feeling. "I'm not upset, really. At least not like he thinks I am. I don't care about any stupid mistakes he made by getting drunk or leaving too soon the next day. What worries me is that he regrets everything else in between, too. The good stuff."

Rose scowled and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't even think that way. If he didn't want to see you again, he never would have phoned or sent flowers. He's scared he's in the dog house and he wants to get out. He said he was really sick, right? Most guys would rather die than let a girl see their weaknesses. He probably just didn't want you to listen to him spew in your toilet all day, and now he feels like a giant douche about the whole deal. You just have to decide if you want to let him off the hook or not."

"Of course I do," I said. "I already texted him earlier and told him to stop apologizing. And then I got these flowers three hours later."

Rosalie's eyebrows raised. "Wow. He must be feeling guilty about something. Or, he just really, really likes you," she added with a grin. She reached into the bouquet and took the tiny greeting envelope out of its plastic holder. "Mind if I read the card?"

_Geez, nosy much? _I felt like saying. But its contents were benign enough, so I shrugged and said, "Sure."

"'Looking forward to Wednesday.' What's Wednesday?"

"My appointment with Emmett. Edward wants to talk to me afterward."

"Face to face? That's good. Better than over the phone. He's manning up," she smiled, rising from her chair. "Sounds to me like you'll have everything straightened out in time for the ball next weekend."

She was about to turn and leave, but my stumped expression must have stopped her.

"'The ball?' You mean like Cinderella?" I snorted. "What are you talking about?"

"The Black and Red Ball next weekend. You mean Edward didn't ask you?" Her face registered surprise.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Why would Edward ask me to a ball?"

"It's a big charity event that the Cullens throw every year. Emmett invited me over the weekend, and I must admit I was pretty honored, because it's a huge upper-crusty gala. All of Seattle's elite will be there. Well, maybe not Bill Gates-level elite, but you know, all the society-page types. I just figured that Edward had asked you to be his date." She looked at me rather apologetically.

I stared at her a moment, not sure what to make of this news. "I've never even heard of the Black and Red Ball," I finally admitted. "Edward never mentioned it to me."

"Oh." Rosalie looked chagrined. "Well, maybe he just hasn't asked you yet. Although, being less than two weeks away, you'd think he would be trying to line up a date by now. Or maybe he's not even going," she suggested finally, as if trying to cheer me up.

"Maybe not. I can't really see him at something like that," I said, trying to picture him in a suit. No doubt the tie would look like it was strangling him, even more than his lab coat did.

"Well, it's his loss, then," she said. Her forehead scrunched in thought, a look I knew well: she was plotting. That could be a dangerous thing.

Suddenly her face brightened. "I think I'm having a really brilliant idea right now. What if I could find out a way to bring you with me, regardless of whether or not Edward gets around to inviting you? I'm wondering if Emmett can get us a corporate table. I'll bet Rich and Mark would love to contribute to the cause and schmooze a little bit with some money types. We could all go together and represent Java Noise. That could be fun!"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed less than enthusiastically. A fancy charity dinner didn't sound like my idea of a fun evening; more like work, especially if our company president and A&R department head would be there. My brain was still trying to absorb the fact that Edward had not once mentioned the event to me - an event that his family hosted every year. Maybe he had no intention of asking me to such a thing, essentially "outing" our budding relationship to everyone. Did he intend to keep us in hiding? Or worse yet, did he intend to end "us" before we even began? Maybe the flowers weren't a peace offering - maybe they were a consolation prize, meant to cushion an imminent blow.

I tried not to let that paranoid thought run away with me as Rosalie returned to her office to call Emmett and arrange everything. Minutes later, she poked her head through the doorway and reported that he was going to try to get Java Noise a table, and he'd have an answer for her tomorrow.

"This will be perfect," she exclaimed, her eyes bright with anticipation. "You could bring one of the guys from the Wolf Pack to represent our clientele. I mean, if Edward's not gonna step up, then this could give him a little nudge in the right direction, you know?"

The thought made me uneasy. "I don't think game-playing is the right way to go about it, though."

"I know, and I agree with that, as a general rule. But if he's going to waffle back and forth and toy with your feelings, then I think he's got a wake-up call coming to him. Do not underestimate the power of the little green-eyed monster. Maybe if you show up with someone else, it will inspire Edward to stake his claim." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Geez, Rose, you make him sound like a Neanderthal," I said with a small laugh.

"Honey, they're all cavemen when it comes right down to it. Don't let his civilized exterior fool you. You need to get him to cut through all the crap, figure out what he wants and then go for it," she said with authority.

"You make it sound so easy. So black and white," I sighed, knowing that with Edward, there were a hundred shades of gray in the middle.

"It IS black and white. Either he wants to try a relationship with you, or he needs to walk away. Don't let him try to pull any of this in-between stuff. You deserve better," Rosalie asserted. She raised her eyebrows at me authoritatively before going back to her office.

I thought about her words during my drive home after work. Maybe she had a point. I couldn't deny that the fact Emmett had asked Rosalie to his family's annual event while Edward hadn't even mentioned it to me stung a bit. Emmett had known Rose for even less time than Edward and I had known each other, and yet he was obviously proud to have her on his arm. Maybe Rose was right, and I should send Edward a message by showing up with someone else. Make him work for it a bit. I was weary of trying to second-guess everything he said, every move he made. Perhaps it was time to just get on with my own life and make my own plans before I drove myself crazy over-thinking everything.

But even as I sit here typing this pep talk to myself, I know it will be easier said than done.

**Wednesday, August 11**

Oh God oh God oh God. This is bad. So bad. For one thing, it's hard to type when I can't see the keyboard through my tears. For another, it's hard to find the words to explain just how badly I've screwed everything up.

It's times like these when I wish so much that you could give me advice, I'm practically beating my head against the computer monitor in case it will make you magically appear. Where are you when I need you, Mom? I was hoping you'd be with me when I spoke to Edward today. I wish you had put some words in my mouth other than the ones that came out. I just hope I haven't ruined everything permanently.

All day yesterday I felt like something bad was coming. I should have been looking forward to seeing Edward again, but instead I could only feel a vague but growing sense of dread. It didn't help that Rosalie was a relentlessly busy bee, humming happily over the plans she was making for a group of us to attend the Black and Red Ball. By the time she had everything confirmed, The Wolf Pack had arrived to do some preliminary recording in-house before we farmed out the bulk of the job to a recording studio. She dragged me down to Studio B to approach the band about one of them attending the big soiree. They looked about as thrilled as I was at the prospect. Rose pinpointed lead singer Sam as the obvious choice to represent the band, and our company. He quickly begged off, saying that he had a prior commitment for his girlfriend's birthday back home.

"Well, I want one of you to accompany Bella to this thing. What about you, Jake?" she suggested.

I wanted to sink under the recording console, or punch Rose in the jaw. Since neither was a viable option, I simply stood there smiling weakly, trying to avoid Jake's raised eyebrows and toothy, pleased grin.

"I'd be happy to accompany Bella to the ball," he announced with a laugh. "Are you going to be wearing glass slippers and the whole nine yards to this gig?" His eyes twinkled at me mischievously. "Do I have to wear a tux?" he suddenly added, his smile fading.

"I think a nice suit and tie will suffice," Rose told him. "Just think of it as an opportunity to reach a new audience instead of a boring obligation."

"Sure, no problem," Jake snorted. "Maybe I can sit in with the orchestra for awhile and give 'em a little up-tempo backbeat. Or teach 'em the chords to 'Three Strikes,'" he added, referring to one of the band's original songs. The guys all guffawed over the idea.

"Okay, that's settled," Rose said with satisfaction. "You two can work out the details later. In the meantime, we'll leave you all to tap the creative muse. Barry will help you with that," she smiled at the engineer as she motioned for me to follow her out the door.

"Thanks a lot, Rose," I huffed as we retreated down the hall back to our offices. "Jake already has funny ideas about us. Now he'll think this is a real date or something."

"Is that so bad?" she countered in between the staccato clip-clop of her heels down the tiled hallway. My comfy espadrilles padded silently alongside her.

"Yes, it is," I complained. "I've been trying to discourage him, especially now that we're working together. It's a recipe for disaster."

"Spoken like, oh, I don't know, Edward Cullen?" she shot back. "Maybe you should give the kid a chance if Edward's not willing to play ball."

"But I don't have those kinds of feelings for Jake. And I can't believe you'd encourage such a thing anyway."

"I'm not," she sighed as we neared her office. "I just think you should keep your options open. You can always remind Jake that the date is for work purposes only, but Edward doesn't have to know that. You can play the jealousy card with him. It's a win-win."

"I'm starting to think you're seriously deranged," I told her, then realized she was still my boss, regardless of the crazy schemes she was dragging me into. "I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course," I added grudgingly.

She only laughed. "Stop worrying so much. I have the feeling everything's going to work out just fine."

"What makes you think that?" I could only see probable disaster looming ahead.

"Just a hunch. I have a good feeling about next weekend. You'll see," she smiled knowingly. She reminded me of Alice Cullen at that moment, seemingly sage while endorsing a patently ridiculous idea. She disappeared into her office, ending our discussion for the moment. I headed back to my own and tried to concentrate on the pile of work waiting for me.

The afternoon was no better. Twice during breaks in recording, Jake came to my office to discuss our "date." He wondered what he should wear, when the shindig started, how long it would take to drive there, and what time he should come pick me up. I felt like saying, "How the hell should I know? Ask Rosalie, since she's the one dragging us all against our will." Instead I tried to be nice and polite and noncommittal. I reminded Jake that this was only a work function. His words assured me he knew that; his expression said otherwise. The apprehension twisting my stomach muscles only grew.

Today they were in knots. All I could think about was seeing Edward later, regardless of the barrage of work-related chaos that demanded my attention. Rose was going crazy booking more appointments for the two of us: spa treatments, manicures and pedicures, hair appointments; and certainly not least of all, shopping for dresses and shoes. By the time I left work, she had my next two Saturdays jammed full of ridiculous frou-frou rituals in preparation for the Cullen fiesta. I might have gotten caught up in the spirit of it all if it weren't for Jake chiming in throughout the day again, talking about borrowing a suit from Quil, who had been in his sister's wedding last year. To my surprise, he sounded nearly as excited about all the excruciating details of this upscale party as Rose was. All I could get excited about was seeing Edward again. It had only been three days, but it seemed like weeks.

I practically raced out of the building to get to Emmett's appointment. My nerves were dancing frantically by the time I rushed through the front door of Cullen and Cullen, PC. Jessica looked up at my flushed face and smiled broadly.

"No need to hurry. Emmett is still finishing up with a patient. You want to go sit in the massage chair for a little longer today?" she offered.

I let out a ragged sigh. "Yeah, that would be great," I agreed. Maybe the extra time in the heated, automated massager would relax me a bit. I tried to think calming thoughts about lying on a sandy, sunny beach, listening to the waves; but inevitably Edward showed up in this scenario, bare-chested and squinting in the sun, laughing and teasing me and throwing me in the ocean, then falling upon me and kissing me. That scene quickly dissolved into an X-rated version of "From Here To Eternity," sending my heart rate skyrocketing again.

Thankfully Emmett was free before I had any more time to fantasize. His amiable smile put me at ease as it always did. I wondered why he was always such a calming influence on me, when his brother had the power to send me into a tizzy in so many different ways.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he ushered me into his office. "Any trouble with your back?"

"No, not at all," I replied honestly. "The only trouble I have right now is work stress. The chair helped though," I fibbed.

"Rose said it's been pretty busy. Of course, knowing her, she's creating half of your stress just by being so wound up herself." Two weeks and Emmett already had Rosalie Hale figured out. Impressive.

He looked me up and down and said, "Well, I don't see anything wildly out of place. Let's get you on the table and check you out."

He worked a bit on my back, but performed very few adjustments compared to what he usually did. I asked him if that was because I was improving.

"It is," he confirmed as he raised the hydraulic table so that I could step off of it. "Things are staying in place much better than they were. I think you're ready to go at least two weeks, maybe three, without seeing me."

"Really?" I asked. My wallet was breathing a sigh of relief at the news, but the rest of me wasn't so sure. I wondered if Edward would be telling me the same thing soon. I already disliked the idea of him cutting back on our therapy, even though I knew that day would eventually come.

"Yes, I think you're ready. Ideally I want to gradually lessen the frequency of your treatments until they're about every three months. If you keep progressing like this, it should happen in no time," he smiled.

"Wow. That's cool, I guess," I said uncertainly.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Most patients would be jumping up and down at that news, you know."

"I know. But I don't mind coming to see you. I always feel better when you're done working on me," I told him truthfully.

"That's nice to hear. That's the whole point. But you shouldn't need to have me manipulate you so often. We want to get you stable. Edward will continue to help you with that."

"Right," I sighed in relief. "I'm counting on that."

He made some notes in my file and then said, "I hear you and some of your co-workers are coming to our fund raiser next weekend. I know it sounds like kind of a drag, but it can be fun. We'll try our best to make it that way, anyway."

"We?" I asked hopefully.

"Me, Edward and Alice. We're all required to be there or we get cut off from our inheritance." He studied my tense expression a moment. "That was a joke, by the way."

"Oh, sorry," I replied sheepishly. All I had heard was that Edward would definitely be there. "I'm sure it'll be great."

"I'll make sure we all get seated at a big table together so we can talk about the snoots behind their backs," he grinned conspiratorially. I liked how he said that as if he and his well-to-do siblings weren't "snoots" themselves.

"Sounds like fun," I laughed. "It's an honor to be included, so thanks for getting us tickets."

"No thanks necessary. It's for a good cause. My aunt died of a heart attack at fifty-three a decade ago, and my mom and uncle have held this annual AHA fund raiser ever since. We appreciate when any company wants to contribute, so our thanks goes to Java Noise too."

I nodded and picked up my purse, ready to go give Jessica my co-pay. My heart began pounding rapidly as Emmett and I said our good-byes and I headed to the front counter. After I gave Jessica my check, she announced that Edward wanted to see me in his office a moment. She looked blithely unsuspecting as she escorted me back down the hallway to the closed door and gave it a couple of raps. Then she smiled and left me standing there as she made her way back to the front.

The blood rushed through my ears in quick, rhythmic spurts as I waited. Why was I so nervous? Maybe because so much seemed to be riding on this meeting, and I wasn't even sure why.

The door opened, and there he was, knocking the wind out of me again just by existing. His lab coat was gone, revealing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, and deep gray, close-fitting slacks that revealed the long, slender line of his legs. He pushed his glasses up his nose and I stared into his glorious, troubled face. This gorgeous man was as nervous as I was. _He_ was nervous over _me. _I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the concept.

He told me I looked great as he ushered me in and pulled up a chair. I sat down and folded my hands to keep them from reaching out to touch him. I was pretty sure we wouldn't get anywhere if I threw myself on his lap and begged him to kiss me. Although maybe words were overrated. I wasn't sure I'd be able to put the right ones together anyway.

He asked how I was, and I rambled some long, incoherent answer about work and the Wolf Pack. I wondered if I was visibly shaking, or if that was just on the inside. He said he'd been hanging out with Jasper's band. I told him I'd like to hear them sometime. Then we stared uncomfortably at each other, and I wondered which of us would break first.

He did. He sighed and rubbed his legs, making me want to touch him again; and then he said he didn't want things to be awkward between us. I felt the breath hastily leave my lungs, hoping he didn't hear the shakiness that finally escaped. I told him that I didn't want things to be awkward between us, either, and that was why I had been upset that he left the way he did. I just didn't want him to shut me out again.

He apologized and said that he had panicked because it felt like too much was happening too soon. _So he does regret what happened between us_, I thought. I felt anxiety gnaw at my stomach again, exactly the way it had Sunday morning. It abated slightly when he told me he didn't want to let the fear win anymore. He wanted to start over and do things right with me. He said he didn't want to blow it this time.

I tried to assure him he didn't blow it. I told him we didn't have to start over; that we could just continue where we left off. How could we go back to the beginning when so much had been said and done? Granted, it had happened quickly, but to me there was no point in trying to put the toothpaste back in the tube, so to speak.

And then I realized that maybe he didn't really remember what had happened. I had always known it was probable that he'd have no recollection of the things he'd said to me; the way he had begged me, "Let me love you." But it still hurt when he assured me that our relationship wasn't just about sex, because that confirmed my fears: the sex was all he remembered.

Of course, he insisted that he did recall everything about that night, but I doubted that was true. He kept talking about going back because we "missed a few steps somewhere." He wanted to do things the "right way." I tried to tell him that there was no right or wrong way; and why didn't we just do things our way? But he had to go and apologize yet again for "performing a questionable sex act on a girl he really likes and respects." It hadn't felt cheap or tawdry at the time he performed it, but when he put it that way, it suddenly did now.

I knew I should have been elated that he was essentially telling me he wanted to date me. He was trying to be a gentleman and do things the old-fashioned way - the "right" way, in his mind. Why couldn't he understand that I didn't care about right or wrong - I just wanted to be close to him? Having him pick me up for some formal date felt like going backwards. I knew that was silly, because he was right; technically we had skipped directly from a casual afternoon date to an evening of drunken sex. But we had talked and shared so many things in the short time that we'd known each other that I already felt closer to him than I had Mike in the entire time we were together. The strong connection I'd felt with Edward the first time I saw him perform had only grown deeper in the past few weeks. I simply couldn't put my feelings for him in the context of casual dating anymore. I realized that I was ready for "too much, too soon"…and Edward wasn't.

That's when he introduced his plan for "making it up to me:" he wanted to take me to the Black and Red Ball. _Now he asks me_, was all I could think. Now that I already had a commitment to attend with my colleagues; now that Jake was getting his buddy's suit altered so he could escort me. My face felt like it was on fire as I tried to explain. I watched Edward's expression grow harder when he realized that I would essentially be going with Jake. I was reminded of that caged-lion look he'd had the first day I met him, across the hall in his massage room. I finally reached out to calm him, putting my hand on his knee as I begged him to understand that this was business, and that I would give anything to be there with him instead. Surely he had to know that. How many times did I have to tell him that he was the one I wanted before he'd believe it?

His tone was snide as he asked if I had planned to just show up and surprise him. How dare he, when he'd never even mentioned his family's gala before now? I reminded him that it wasn't like he had asked me to go with him, and for all I knew he was taking Kate or something. Her name just popped out of my mouth; a sore spot that I could never seem to quit poking to see if it still hurt.

That's when he blindsided me. At first he didn't even realize what he'd blurted: that _she_ would be treating me from now on. The Barbie Denali. The living, breathing antithesis of myself; the inadvertent trigger of every self-conscious insecurity I'd ever had. Confusion and panic fought for supremacy inside me. It didn't even make sense to me at first. She was a massage therapist, too? I didn't want that woman touching me, ever. And I didn't want Edward to stop.

I could feel senseless tears coming before he even had a chance to go into his spiel about how he couldn't treat me after everything that had happened between us. I had no choice but to tell him the naked truth: that he was the one who knew me, who knew my body; he was the only one I wanted touching me. I didn't even know if I was talking about the therapy anymore. All I knew is that I didn't want him to take his healing touch away from me. He and Emmett had helped me more than anyone ever before, and I couldn't afford to lose that. The panic began to take over, wild and irrational. I didn't want to hear any more of his excuses about conflicts of interest or legalities. Almost without conscious thought, my tongue lashed out, sharp and precise, and cut him off at the knees.

"But you're not a doctor."

The words reverberated in my head, strangely distant, like shrapnel bouncing off of a far-away target. I knew they would pierce his Achilles heel, and I was slow to claim them afterward. But there was no mistaking that they had shot from my lips. I knew I should apologize, but now that I needed them, the words refused to come. As Edward handed me Kate's business card, with our usual Saturday, ten o'clock a.m. appointment time written neatly on it, I no longer wanted to apologize. I only wanted to cry, and leave, not necessarily in that order. I stared at the card and couldn't help but feel completely abandoned in that moment.

When I got up to go, he tried to coax me to stay. He apologized about not asking me to the Black and Red Ball sooner; he tried to take me to dinner. I lied and told him I was meeting Angela. I knew I was pushing away the one thing I wanted most with both hands when I refused him. But I suddenly understood why he wanted to move more slowly, and go back somehow. Our utter lack of communication since I'd walked through the door spelled out quite clearly what I hadn't wanted to see before: I didn't know Edward as well as I thought, and it seemed he didn't know me, either. Maybe a little breathing room was in order. I needed it desperately at the moment. I told him as much, and the pain I saw in his eyes cut me to the quick. We knew each other well enough to hurt one another, that much was certain. Whether we know how to heal and get past those hurts remains to be seen.

I tried not to cry during the ride home. It's too dangerous to drive when you can't see the road through your tears. But once I got here, I let them flow freely. I knew I was being foolish about Edward referring me to Kate, and I'm sure Edward didn't understand my reaction at all. I'm not sure I understand it myself. All I know is that I was finally starting to feel okay again. Not just my back, but _me_. Dealing with the past. Letting go of some of the pain and survivor guilt. Letting go of you. But now I feel like I'm twisting in the wind, with nothing and no one to hang onto anymore.

I'm waiting for Angela to come home, because I know she'll be able to calm me down and talk some sense into me. It's not often that I lose it like this, but when I do, she's the one person who can make me feel better, outside of you. And since you can't give me those great mama-bear hugs anymore, I have to make do.

I haven't decided what to do about the appointment with Kate. Right now, the thought of letting anyone but Edward put their hands on me makes my skin crawl. But my niggling curiosity about that woman, and her relationship with him, is nagging at me worse than ever. Maybe by Saturday I'll be strong enough to show up for the appointment. What's the worst that could happen? I can always leave. Lord knows if I'm there too long, Rose will be at the door with a stopwatch and a baseball bat, dragging me out to commence shopping for dresses.

Compared to that, a massage session with Katrina Denali might not be so bad after all.


	20. Anticipation, part 2

**Sorry it took so long for this update... Real Life has been getting in the way again! Thanks to all of you who have alerted, favorited, and of course reviewed-I am continually humbled and grateful when you all take the time to do these things. **

**The usual disclaimers apply-I own nothing of Stephenie Meyer's, sadly enough.**

**And now, Bella benefits from a little girl time...**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Saturday, August 14**

Healthy Horizons Day Spa was the polar opposite of Cullen and Cullen, PC.

As I waited nervously for my appointment with Katrina Denali, I wandered the front of the spa, which was a retail cornucopia of new-age remedies. I sniffed the essential oils, feng shui candles and bath products designed to calm and soothe. I perused the selection of health-related books that suggested ways to treat my recurring back problems. But I couldn't stop glancing to the anterior of the building, which was divided into numerous private rooms for massages, facials, steam therapy and more. I wasn't sure how I was going to react upon seeing Kate again, or what I would say to her. I was hoping that she would take the lead and somehow make this easier on me. I wished desperately that I was in Edward's massage room now, stripped down to my underwear and climbing under the flannel sheet, waiting for him to come and lay his hands on me.

"Bella, so good to see you!" a faintly familiar voice greeted me. I quickly put the candle I'd been inhaling back on the shelf and turned to face Katrina Denali-all six feet of her. It seemed like it, anyway. She was nearly as tall as Edward.

"Good to see you, too," I managed, trying to return a fraction of her toothy smile.

"I'm so glad you decided to let me help you and Edward out," she continued as she approached. "He's very concerned that you continue to get the proper treatment for your back. Why don't we go talk a bit, and then get started?" She motioned for me to follow her to the back of the spa and I obeyed.

Katrina ushered me into a massage room only faintly reminiscent of the one at Cullen and Cullen. It was a bit more austere, in pale shades of cream, yellow and blue; far less darkly sensual than Edward's. The music playing softly in the background was soothing and tranquil, but not as exotic. And Kate's blonde, blue-eyed lightness was in direct contrast to Edward's green-eyed intensity.

"I know it's none of my business, but I'm really excited that Edward decided to refer you," she said as she closed the door behind us. She motioned for me to take a seat next to her desk, then joined me in her matching blue office chair. "He's been wrestling with this situation with you for a few weeks now. His one ironclad rule is that he won't get personally involved with clients. Besides, he really wanted to be the one to help you. He's got a bit of a God complex that way," she said with a wry laugh. "But he obviously decided that a personal relationship with you was more important to him. That's a big step for him."

I stared at her, stunned into silence. She had just shed some much-needed light on Edward's motivations, and it struck me how much my reaction must have upset him. I suddenly felt like a bit of an idiot for my irrational behavior the other day.

My dismay must have been apparent, for Kate's smile faded and she asked, "Is everything okay? I'm sorry if I overstepped. It's not my place to comment on your personal life, I know. It's just that Edward is one of my dearest friends, so when I see how happy you make him, I want to do whatever I can to help you two out."

"That's very thoughtful of you," I said, feeling a bit queasy. "I'm not sure how happy he is with me right now, though. I may have overreacted a bit when he told me he wasn't going to be my therapist anymore. It's nothing personal against you." _Well, not completely. _"It's just that I really felt like I was improving with his help," I faltered.

"It's normal for clients to feel apprehensive about switching therapists. I'm sure he understands. And I'm going to do my best to follow his recommendations to the letter so that you keep improving exactly the way he would want you too," she assured me. She picked up a couple of fax pages from her desk and looked them over. I glanced at them and saw several paragraphs hand-written in an elegant scrawl that could only belong to Edward. I wondered what he had written about me.

"Emmett and Edward sent me some notes about the care they've given you so far," she said as she perused the faxes. "It looks like you've been making good progress."

"I have," I agreed. "At least, I think so. I guess that's why I was afraid to make a change."

"Edward and I took a lot of the same courses together in school," she informed me. "We're both fully trained in the type of myofascial work he's been performing on you. I have no intention of changing his methods or doing anything other than what he's outlined here. He was very thorough and clear in his recommendations for you."

I smiled weakly. "He is kind of bossy."

Kate laughed, a rich bell tone ringing throughout the room. "He can be," she agreed. "In this case, though, I agree with him. Now, I'm going to have you stand up so I can examine you before we get started."

I dutifully rose from my chair while she eyeballed me up and down. She then moved behind me and gently ran her hands over my shoulders and down my back, her fingers finding and probing the various trouble spots as she went.

"Okay," she announced as she stepped away and headed for the doorway. "I'm going to let you undress and get situated on the table. I'd like you to lie face down for the first part of the massage. I think you'll be okay if I keep it brief," she smiled. I cringed as I realized that Edward must have detailed my reaction the first time he ever worked on me. I wondered what else he had revealed about me to her.

I undressed and tossed my hastily-folded clothes on the chair next to the desk. As I turned toward the massage table, a framed photo on the other side of the desktop caught my eye. I recognized the two women in the picture: Kate, and the redhead with whom she had waltzed through the door of Billy's the night I hid and watched Edward perform with Jasper. I wouldn't have thought anything about a photo of Kate with her friend, except that there was something about their posture that spoke of much more than friendship. The redhead was seated on the grass in a scenic locale with Kate behind her, arm thrown possessively across her in a close embrace as she grinned over the redhead's shoulder. The redhead clasped Kate's wrist; their foreheads were pressed together. Their faces beamed with happiness. It looked remarkably like an engagement photo. I gaped openly at the image as the question popped into my head: Was Katrina Denali a lesbian?

I instantly remembered Alice Cullen's statement that hell would freeze over before anything ever happened between Kate and Edward. He always acted like I was being silly whenever I indicated I was jealous of her, but he never revealed exactly why. Maybe he felt it wasn't fair to bring her sexual orientation into our arguments; or maybe he enjoyed making me jealous, as payback for his unwarranted worries about Jake. I didn't put that past him. The possibility of Kate swinging the other way - away from Edward - filled me with a giddy sense of relief.

I climbed upon the massage table, considerably more relaxed than when I'd first arrived. Regardless of her relationship with Edward, Kate's warm, easygoing demeanor made it hard to dislike her. In a way, it was comforting to know that these were the sorts of people Edward surrounded himself with now, instead of lowlifes like James. As I rested my face in the donut hole, I couldn't help but think back to my first massage with Edward, when I mistakenly had thought Emmett was working on me. I longed to see Edward's untied shoelaces in my line of vision now, knowing that his touch on my neck would be the next thing I'd feel.

Instead, my down-turned eyes were soon met with the sight of a pair of neatly tied, brightly colored tennis shoes after Kate knocked and entered the room. I wondered if she'd be meeting Edward for a match later, and if that was something they did regularly. I'd never wished so hard for someone to be a lesbian before - ironic in light of the fact that she soon would be running her hands all over me.

She announced that she was going to work primarily on my upper body today, which was unsurprising given the still-sensitive nature of my tailbone. She told me that next week she would address that issue more directly.

Katrina's fingers were long like Edward's, but lacking his masculine strength. My muscles still responded to the methods she employed because they were methods my body recognized. As the minutes ticked by, I had to acknowledge that it was much easier to relax with her, knowing that the hands manipulating me were not Edward's. I was unable to perceive her touch as sexual because it wasn't his. Instead, I was able to concentrate on the feel of my tissues softening and stretching under her gentle but insistent pressure. Why did Edward always have to be right about everything?

"You feeling okay?" she asked as she made her way slowly down my back.

"I'm fine," I nodded into the donut hole. "Really good, actually."

"Your muscles are responding very well, much better than what Edward described at the beginning of your treatment. He's a very gifted therapist." Her tone was admiring, almost envious.

"He's wonderful," I concurred, the words slipping out almost wistfully.

"Well, I'm going to do my best to continue in that vein. Now, I'd like you to roll onto your back. I'm going to work on your neck and shoulders a bit."

I obeyed, careful to keep the sheet covering my body as I maneuvered onto my back. Kate, with her bodacious mammaries, didn't need to witness my glaring lack thereof. Not that she would care anyway, with a gorgeous girlfriend like the redhead, assuming that was their relationship.

Katrina coated her hands with a lavender-smelling lotion before working my pectorals, shoulders and neck. She even swirled her hands up into my hair, gently massaging my scalp and literally pulling the tension from my jaws and forehead. She really was nearly as good as Edward; and after she was done, I told her so.

She smiled and said, "Well, those are pretty big shoes to fill, so I'll take that as a compliment."

I tried to muster the courage to ask her about the photograph on her desk, but could come up with no unobtrusive way to do it. I decided I would ask Alice about my suspicions after I left the spa.

When I had called Alice to tell her I couldn't make yoga class due to Rosalie's hi-jacking of my Saturday, she had decided to ditch exercise in favor of joining us. The day after Jasper agreed to escort her to the Black and Red Ball, she ran out and bought herself a dress; but that apparently didn't dampen her enthusiasm for helping Rosalie and I shop for ours. I already knew I would be the odd woman out on this day of traditional female pampering. Rose and Alice had been gearing up for a day of shopping and facials like athletes psyching themselves up for a big game. I wondered if I could get away with being merely a bench-warmer this time around. I already knew the answer to that. They'd drag me into the fray anyway, so I decided I might as well be a good sport about it.

I dressed quickly after Kate finished our session, then met her at the front desk to set up an appointment for next week, same time. I was still disappointed to be meeting with her instead of Edward, but if he had arranged this so that he and I would be free to see each other, I'd be stupid to harbor any ill will toward either of them.

An hour later over lunch at the Cheesecake Factory, Rosalie concurred.

"You're looking at this all wrong," she declared with a wave of her avocado egg roll. "If you start dating Edward, you can finagle the massages for _free_."

"Huh, good luck with that," Alice rebutted from the seat next to mine in our restaurant booth. "I think he used me once as a guinea pig while he was in school. After he got his license, he refused to touch me without payment up front. Mercenary."

"Well, how was the massage with Kate, anyway? Was it that bad?" Rosalie asked.

"No, she's actually really good. Not the same as Edward, of course, but I doubt anyone is." I suddenly remembered my question for Alice and turned to her. "I saw a very interesting photo on Kate's desk, of her hanging on some gorgeous female redhead, looking a little… Sapphic. Is that why you told me not to worry about her and Edward? Is she…?"

Alice's peals of laughter stopped my question in its tracks. "A lesbian? Totally! The redhead is her fiancee, Victoria. You mean Edward never told you that?"

"No," I admitted, feeling a little irritated with him all over again. "He always told me not to worry about her, but he never said why."

Rose let out a scornful laugh. "Well, of course he never told you! It was in his best interest to keep you guessing, especially if he's been worried about Jake. Men," she snorted, shaking her head.

Alice looked apologetic. "I just assumed he had told you. I really can't make any excuses for him-he should have been upfront with you, especially when he referred you to her for treatment. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I mean, her sexual orientation is really none of my business. Besides, Edward keeping that from me helps alleviate my guilt over what I said to him the last time we spoke," I sighed.

Both girls were silent, their faces curious. I didn't want to admit the crack I'd made about him not being a real doctor. It was a low blow I never should have delivered, no matter how upset I was at that moment.

"I said something pretty hurtful that I wish I could take back," I finally admitted, looking down at my plate and pushing the last few bites of crab cake around with my fork.

"Bella, trust me, Edward doesn't fault you for anything that happened," Alice said carefully. I knew she had probably spoken with him and was most likely trying to figure out which of our confidences to keep. "He's the king of self-blame. The way he told you he was sending you to Kate wasn't exactly tactful. Which is very unusual for him, by the way." She munched thoughtfully on a shrimp roll. "You know, I think that's actually a good thing-the way you keep Edward off balance. He's become far too self-contained and controlled all the time. He's been playing it safe for awhile. It's time for him to stop, and I think he finally realizes that."

"Sounds like Edward and I have more in common than I thought," Rosalie commented. "Your other brother has been doing a good job of turning my world upside down lately," she added to Alice with a slightly perturbed grin.

"That works both ways," Alice replied happily. "It's been a long time since I've seen that fire in Emmett's eyes over a girl. He is completely smitten. And unlike Edward, I'm sure he wouldn't even care that I'm telling you that."

"He is an open book. It's refreshing," Rose agreed. "And kind of irresistible, after most of the game-players I usually attract."

"God, this is so awesome," Alice suddenly exclaimed, looking back and forth between me and Rose. "I can't believe my brothers finally found cool girls they really like, who already know each other. It's like kismet. We are going to have so much fun at the ball next week! I can feel it." Alice's leg began its requisite pumping and the booth bounced in accompaniment.

"Well, there is the slight problem that my dinner date is actually Jake," I reminded her, glaring across the table at Rosalie. She appeared unfazed.

"A technicality," she said dismissively. "I got you there, right? I had no way of knowing if Edward would ever get around to asking you."

"He did wait too long," Alice agreed. "He forgot the ball was even coming up. Boys are so clueless, and my brothers are no exception."

"Boys are allergic to anything requiring them to dress up and act like civilized human beings," Rose intoned.

"I can't wait to see Jasper in a suit," sighed Alice. "I might have to break my three-proper-dates-before-sex rule if he looks as devastating as I think he will."

"Ah, the three-date rule. That's a good one. Definitely hard to follow sometimes, especially with the Cullen brothers," Rose said, giving me a knowing wink.

"Well, if my complete communication breakdown with Edward after last weekend is any indication, the three-date rule should definitely be enforced," I said glumly. I wondered if things would have turned out differently if I had just stayed in my room Saturday night and let Edward and his stubbed toe fend for themselves.

Alice gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Edward's not going anywhere. He's so jealous over you bringing Jake to this party that his eyes are ten shades greener than normal. You should see the suit he bought this morning - midnight black Gucci, being fitted like a glove as we speak. I didn't even have to nag him to go to the tailor. He wants to look good, and I know damned well there is only one reason for that," she concluded, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I tried once more to picture Edward in a suit, long and lean and dashing. I knew he would pull it off spectacularly. I suddenly felt a little more serious about our impending dress-shopping excursion. I wanted the impression-making effort to be a two-way street.

"He bought a new suit for this? The boy is serious, Bella," Rosalie agreed. "You need to up your hot factor, chica. Luckily, you are in very good hands."

Rose and Alice exchanged self-assured smirks. "I love makeovers," Alice said with relish. "Not that you need one, Bella. Just a little fine-tuning."

"Great," I sighed in surrender. "Tune away, ladies."

I put myself in their capable hands for the rest of the afternoon. The only (and obvious) rule for attire at the Black and Red Ball was that it be mostly black, red, or some combination thereof. Rose and Alice dragged me to most of the big-name department stores downtown, as well as some designer boutiques, in search of appropriate dresses. The price tags were well out of my budget in most cases. Money never seems to be an object for Rosalie, and I'm not sure if she has credit card debt up to her keister or if her parents help her out. Perhaps I'll be in for a sizeable pay increase if I ever work my way up to her position at Java Noise. All I know is that Rosalie didn't blink an eye when the strapless, floor-length crimson gown she fell in love with had a $750 price tag attached. We all agreed that it was stunning the minute she walked out of the dressing room in the curve-hugging dress, which was dotted with exquisite beadwork along the bodice and trailing down the split floor-length skirt.

"You look like Jessica Rabbit," I exclaimed.

"Emmett is going to bust something when he sees you in that," Alice proclaimed.

"That's exactly the idea," Rosalie said with a quirk of one eyebrow. We knew the dress was a done deal, and so was Emmett.

Now all that remained was to find something for me, plus shoes and accessories, of course. I had tried on several things in half a dozen stores, but nothing was right. Either they didn't fit well, were too froufrou for my taste, or were the wrong color. I was beginning to despair in spite of the girls' assurances that we wouldn't rest until we found the perfect dress. "I want Edward to shit himself when he sees you," Alice insisted poetically.

"I'd rather he didn't," I laughed, "though there are other involuntary reactions that I wouldn't object to."

"Ha-ha, fine. I really can't think about that the fact that my brothers have penises, though, I'm sure you understand."

I couldn't stop thinking about that fact, unfortunately. Ever since last Saturday, an undeniable resolve had taken root deep inside me: I intended to make Edward Cullen's manhood hard as a rock the next time I had the opportunity. I wanted him sober and suffering with desire for me. I'd condemn him to enduring the Black and Red Ball with blue balls half the night if need be. I simply had to make him want me as much as I wanted him. And I had to find The Dress that would do the job.

The miracle happened just as I was about to give up all hope. I had begun to flip through racks of garments that weren't even my size, just in case there was something hiding somewhere that I had missed. And suddenly there it was: a stunningly simple black gown in my size that had ended up on the wrong rack. I pulled it out and looked it over; it appeared that it would fit. I practically ran to the dressing room before Alice and Rose even knew where I had gone.

It was an elegant long-sleeved wrap dress, tying underneath at the waist and then draping through a wide, simply ornamented belt before falling in a long train at the back. Every step I took would reveal my legs as the wrap-front opened and flowed behind me. The fabric formed a deep V down my chest, revealing more flesh than I normally dreamed of showing in public. But my decided lack of cleavage made the neckline less shocking somehow, and the way the fabric gathered as it met the belt seemed to add some dimension to the curves I did have. From the back, the dress clung in all the right places, hugging and accentuating my backside in a rather sexy way.

A slow smile spread across my face as I looked at myself in the mirror. This was the one.

I exited the dressing room and went in search of Rose and Alice. I found them in the shoe department, debating the merits of pumps that either matched or contrasted with the dress. I cleared my throat loudly until both looked up. Their expressions were all I needed to cement my decision.

"Be-e-ella-a!" Alice squealed, rushing up and grabbing my arms as she looked me up and down. "This dress is amazing. You look a-ma-zing! You must get it. Are you going to get it? You have to get it. Edward _is _going to shit when he sees you in this. Holy mackerel on a cracker."

I couldn't help but laugh at Alice's enthusiasm. I was actually pretty excited to see Edward's reaction myself.

"Turn around," Rose ordered from her chair, where she sat with one strappy red shoe on her foot and the other in her hand. I obeyed, turning and giving her a melodramatic sexy look over my shoulder.

"Your ass looks incredible in that. Your legs, too. You get the right shoes to go with that and Edward doesn't stand a chance. Not to mention Jake, or half the guys at this party."

I felt a blush warm my cheeks at their compliments. For the first time in my life, I began to look forward to an occasion in which I had to play dress-up. I was even interested in trying on shoes, and left the dress on while I did so. Rose was on a mission as well, and we both decided that contrasting colors were better: she chose a pair of stacked black pumps, while I went for something similar in red. I was hesitant to cheapen the elegant look with red shoes, but Rose and Alice both thought that if I got a matching clutch, it would be in keeping with the Go Red For Women theme. I found closed-toe pumps in a deep scarlet color that managed to look classy rather than trashy, and I strolled around in them for a bit to make sure I could do it without falling down.

I was so happy about my purchases that, like Rose, I didn't even look at the price tags until I took them to the register. I nearly had heart failure when the clerk rang them up. I felt a horrible pang of guilt as I handed over my credit card, but then I came to a decision: I would take cash out of the settlement to pay for them if I had to. You know I've never spent a dime of that money on anything frivolous. But somehow this time I knew you'd approve.

I was actually ready for our trip to the salon after our shopping excursion. I never knew shopping could be so exhausting. At least I could relax at the spa while they exfoliated and moisturized and whatever else they planned to do to my complexion.

"I hope you like this place," Rosalie grinned as she ushered Alice and I through the towering glass door and into a serene ocean-colored waiting area. "This week they'll do the facials and waxing so our skin has time to recover. Next week we'll be back for hair, make-up and nails before the party." Her eyes were aglow with anticipation.

"You really live for this kind of stuff, don't you?" I commented with a laugh. "How did you ever get into the music business?"

"Eh, the pampering only feeds my ego. Music feeds my soul," she replied. Succinct, insightful comments like that one always remind me why I like Rosalie Hale despite her deceptively superficial appearance.

Moments later, the three of us were lined up like monkeys in one of the many spa rooms, our freshly scrubbed faces covered in some kind of aromatic green goo, cucumbers over our eyes. We reclined in thick terry spa robes and laughed about what the boys would say if they saw us now.

After the masks were wiped clean and various toners and emollients were gently rubbed into our skin, we were each taken to private rooms for further grooming. A no-nonsense looking Asian girl invited me to lie down on the spa table after studying my face and announcing, "We wax your eyebrows and upper lip. You have little bit of shadow there." She pointed at the corners of my mouth.

"Well, I am a brunette," I grumbled as she prepared the hot mixture at a nearby table.

"What about down there? How much you want removed?" She turned and pointed in the area of my crotch.

I stared at her blankly. "What are you talking about?"

She picked up a card that presumably contained the spa treatments Rose had ordered. "Your bikini wax. You want a landing strip, or you want it all off?"

I stared at her some more. "You - you have me down for a Brazilian?" I finally stuttered. Clearly Rose had no clue about my fear of waxing. Obviously, since she was my boss, we'd never discussed it.

"Yes, full wax. You want legs too?"

"No, I'll just shave those," I said with a shudder. The idea of waxing my legs entailed far too much skin being tortured than I could possibly bear. But something about the bikini wax held a certain appeal, in light of Edward's proclivities. He had spent quite a bit of time in that area. I was hoping he'd feel like doing that again. Maybe it would be nice to have it all smooth and bare and…_ready_ for him. Just thinking about it made me ready.

She approached with the pot of warm wax and a small wooden stick, then leaned in and dotted the sticky substance around my eyebrows to catch any stray hairs. She followed suit with my upper lip. As she pressed small strips of cloth into the wax, she asked the million dollar question again.

"Leave landing strip? Or remove all the hair?" Her hand hovered near the opening of my spa robe. I ignored the stab of panic in my stomach and forced myself to say the words.

"Take it all off."

I'm not sure my bravery has been tested to such a degree in quite some time. First came the humiliation of every intimate part of me, front to back, being coated in hot wax and pressed firmly with cloth strips by a complete stranger. Then came the waiting period as my pubic hair and the cloth adhered to the cooling wax, while I tried to brace myself for the impending pain. _It'll be quick, _I reminded myself. _It's just hair. You'll be fine._

The tiny bit of calm that I had managed to achieve disappeared the minute the Asian girl returned to my room to finish the job. I squeezed my eyes shut as she approached. The sting of the tiny cloths being yanked from my face was sharp but brief. The technician applied some soothing balm to the spots and smiled as she viewed her handiwork.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked as she made her way south. "Hang onto sides of the table. I do it fast. You be fine," she said authoritatively with a brief smile.

I held in the screams as the girl ruthlessly and repeatedly ripped what felt like three layers of skin from my entire groin. I felt like I was on fire, my crotch burned raw and radiating with pain. _What have I done? I'll never be able to have sex again! _was my first agonized thought.

The technician only smiled down at my hairless pussy, evidently pleased with the results of her chamber of horrors. She closed the spa robe over me and reached for a tube of cream on the nearby table. "Here, you put this on now and repeat later as necessary. You be fine in a day or two."

After she left, I dabbed the ointment gingerly on my smarting skin. I had to take a look at myself in the hand mirror she had left on the table to see how bad it was. I was surprised to see that my flesh looked fairly normal, save for its bright pink appearance at the moment. It was strange seeing myself that way, completely hairless, every detail of my genitals clearly visible with the slightest parting of my legs. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. I wasn't sure what Edward would think, either. But I felt oddly brazen about the decision, now that it was done. Besides, the hair would grow back in no time anyway.

I dressed carefully, hoping my panties wouldn't rub too much on my tender skin. I was sure I was walking a little funny, too, like I'd just survived a weekend-long sex marathon. Hopefully the next time I was sore like this, that would be the reason.

"God, that bikini wax is always a bitch, isn't it?" Rose said in far too chipper a tone as I slowly approached the front of the salon where she and Alice waited. Maybe they got bikini waxes all the time and it didn't take them as long as mine apparently did. I really didn't feel like asking.

I smiled weakly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Oh, but it makes for such amazing sex," she sighed in obvious pleasure. Alice raised her eyebrows and nodded in agreement. I only hoped I'd soon get the chance to find out, and that my nether regions would be sufficiently recovered enough to enjoy it.

"So how do you feel, ladies? Ready to take on the world?" Rosalie smiled expectantly as we exited the building and headed for her BMW.

"Absolutely. Or Jasper, at any rate," Alice laughed.

A grin stole across my face as I walked down the street, my body feeling newly alive and aware. It was as if the removal of that protective patch of hair had only intensified and exposed the awakening inside me that Edward had sparked last weekend. I'd never been so conscious of my sexuality before; never felt it burning so insistently between my legs, demanding satisfaction.

But the difference in me was much more than that. The clothes, the grooming, were merely pieces of evidence. The real transformation was far deeper.

"I feel like I'm ready for anything," I said resolutely. "Like I'm ready for _everything_."

Rosalie and Alice gave me a knowing smile, like they understood. Perhaps we all share the same secret. I have no doubt that we're ready to take on the world - at least, our world, and the people we want in it.

But are they ready for us?


	21. Transformation, part 1

**Sorry it took so long for this update! Real Life has been getting in the way lately. Oh, and there was this amazing film about an elephant released last weekend-that was quite distracting as well. ;)**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight universe, lucky woman. Wish she'd finish Midnight Sun instead of write more about Jake and the Miracle Gro hybrid baby, but that's a topic for another day.**

**Thanks to all my readers...you rock my world. **

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Sunday, August 22**

When Jessica Stanley excused herself to go to the ladies' room, I breathed a sigh of relief so strong that the orchid table decorations fluttered from the breeze. I'd never been so happy to have someone out of earshot in my entire life. It wasn't her ears, but mine, that I was trying to spare. From the time that I picked her up at her apartment last night to the moment we settled at our table in my uncle's vast back yard, she did not shut up. The tasteful chamber orchestra assembled halfway down the table-covered lawn could not compete with Jessica on a roll.

I knew she was a talker. Emmett warned me that I'd be sorry I asked her to the Black and Red Ball. I just didn't know that it would be this bad. All of the qualities that made her a good receptionist - outgoing, enthusiastic, inquisitive - were the ones that were driving me bonkers now that I had to socialize with her outside of the office. In the short twenty minutes it took to drive to The Highlands, Jessica had managed to cover at least as many topics of conversation. I quickly apprehended that there was no point in trying to keep up. She really didn't require any participation from me at all, other than the occasional nod and smile.

Her small talk started off just fine. She commented about how excited she was to represent Cullen & Cullen at the fund raiser, and how hard she would try to make a good impression on our business associates. But her prattle soon deteriorated into revelations of how long it took for her to get her hair done in its labor-intensive up-do, how expensive manicures and pedicures were these days, how difficult it was to find a dress that would accommodate "the girls" (which she illustrated by gesturing to her considerable cleavage with a self-congratulatory smile,) and how lucky I was to be a man so that I didn't have to deal with such rigorous efforts to beautify myself.

That's when I got worried. I had made it very clear to her that this was a business date only, and that she would be helping to represent our practice. After all, if Rosalie and Bella could play that hand, so could I. But now that Jessica was all glammed up for the big gala, she seemed to be regarding this as an actual date. I couldn't imagine why else she would assume it was okay to discuss her anatomy so openly with her boss. Worse yet, I began to imagine the kind of poor impression she would make on our colleagues if she was as loose-lipped with them as she had just been with me. I hadn't planned on having to police her all night long. Her behavior was always appropriate in the office, so I could only pray that she'd display the same sort of sense and self-restraint in a social setting.

As soon as Jessica disappeared into the house to use the guest bathroom, my eyes began to comb the grounds for signs of Bella in the growing crowd. I wondered what she'd be wearing. I was having difficulty imagining her in anything but jeans, her hair spilling down her back with wild abandon. I loved her hair that way. It never looked more glorious to me than the morning after I made love to her all night. I longed to muss her hair beyond recognition on a regular basis. I missed the smell of it and the feel of it between my fingers more than I ever knew it was possible to miss something.

That's not even true. I missed so many things about her, I couldn't count them all. But I felt it most acutely when last Saturday morning rolled around and I had no massage appointment with Bella. I hadn't filled her spot with anyone else, either. I couldn't bring myself to do it. It seemed silly to come into work on a weekend for only two appointments, and I wondered if I should just begin working Thursday afternoons again and forget Saturdays altogether.

Alice came to my rescue. During the time I normally would have treated Bella, my sister scheduled an appointment for me to meet with the tailor that our family had gone to for as long as I could remember. I didn't argue with her; I knew it was time for me to get a new suit for the upcoming occasion. For the first time ever, I actually wanted to. I wanted to look good for Bella, and, quite irrationally, to one-up Jacob. I despised how superficially my mind was working in that regard. The whole upcoming affair felt like a bad script from an old "Dynasty" TV show episode.

But here I was, decked out head to toe in a Gucci suit that fit me like a glove. I'd never owned a set of clothes so meticulously fitted to every inch of my body, from the crisp white shirt to the slim trousers to the jacket that framed my shoulders perfectly and narrowed to a nipped two-button waist. When I tried it on this morning after the alterations were done, the tailor's eyes gleamed with pride. I had to admit it looked incredibly sharp. I felt like real man in it somehow, instead of a kid playing dress-up. It was a surprising coming-of-age moment.

After giving the tailor a generous tip, I went and got a haircut to match. This was the cleanest-cut I'd looked since puberty. Mom would probably pass out from joy when she saw me. I had no idea what Bella's reaction would be. I knew what I hoped it would be, but something told me she'd be just as happy to see me in jeans and a t-shirt, assuming she would be happy to see me at all. Alice assured me she would, but I still had my doubts.

"Edward, Edward!" An excited, high-pitched voice suddenly echoed across the terrace, followed by the sound of noisy footsteps rushing across the flagstones behind me. For a second I was terrified that I would turn to see Jessica and "the girls" bouncing my way. I looked over my shoulder and was relieved to see my eldest cousin's four-year-old daughter running toward me at a pace that I was sure would result in her ending up with two skinned knees.

"Hey, slow down there, Batgirl," I laughed as I left my seat and went to meet my second cousin, Lilly, halfway. She barreled toward me with arms outstretched, dark curls flying, face flushed and beaming as only a child's can be. I leaned down and scooped her up in my arms, whirling her around a few times until she squealed with delight.

"How's my favorite superhero today?" I asked her as I tucked my elbow under her rump and clasped my hands around her waist, holding her fast against me. The last time I had seen her at Uncle Bill's birthday party last month, she had been dressed in a Batgirl costume that she refused to remove, even when it was dinner time.

"I'm good," she grinned, throwing her dimpled arms around my neck. "Mommy made me take off my bat cape and leave it in the car, though," she added with a pout.

"Well, your dress looks much prettier without it. The black cape doesn't really match your pink and red flowers, now, does it? And the mask covers up your pretty face."

She giggled impishly. "You're pretty, too, Edward," she said, one tiny hand tugging on the knot of my tie, the other tickling me behind the ear. "You got a haircut."

"You noticed, huh? I did that just for your grandpa and my mom, so they'd be proud of me. But I still can't hold a candle to you, Lillypad. Not only are you completely adorable, you've got flowers in your hair," I pointed out.

"You can have one!" she exclaimed, reaching up to remove one of the dainty rosebud- entwined barrettes that held back her curls on either side.

"No, honey, those are for you. Boys don't wear flowers. Boys aren't pretty like girls are," I corrected her. "Boys are handsome."

"You're handsome," she amended, putting her hand to my face. "Ouch-scratchy," she proclaimed with a grimace at the feel of my perpetual stubble. Before I could apologize, Lilly added, "She's pretty." She pointed over my shoulder, a huge smile on her face for whoever was behind me.

I shifted my little cousin on my hip and turned to see who she was talking about. Standing a few feet away was a stunning woman in a long, black dress that clung to her pale-skinned curves like the twilight clings to the rising moon. Her hair hung in perfect, symmetrical waves down one shoulder, curling over her breast and teasing the swath of cream-colored flesh exposed by the plunging neckline of her dress. Her lips were painted a lustrous garnet to match her purse and her mile-high heels. Lavender and smoke rimmed her eyes - the most beautiful, fathomless, glistening drops of Hershey's syrup I'd ever seen.

I couldn't stop staring. My mouth hung slightly ajar and my pulse raced. I tried to reconcile the freckle-faced, rain-soaked girl I'd first kissed in my car two weeks ago with the glamorous, sophisticated woman who stood staring up at me now. I had always thought Bella was beautiful, with or without make-up. She looked like a painted doll now, her skin flawless porcelain, her cheeks glowing pinker by the second as my incredulous eyes raked over her. I caught her doing the same to me. As her gaze swept up and down my body, I felt my dick stirring to life. Thank God it wasn't on strike this evening.

"Isn't she pretty, Edward?" Lilly demanded. The childish pitch of her voice thankfully dampened any further inappropriate thoughts or bodily functions on my part.

"No, Lilly. She's beautiful," I whispered loudly to her, never once taking my eyes from Bella's. "Her name is even Italian for 'beautiful.' Do you know the Italian word for 'beautiful?'" I finally tore my gaze away from Bella's and fixed it upon my cousin's eyes.

She shook her head "no."

"It's 'Bella.' This is Bella Swan. Bella, this is my second cousin, Lilly Platt," I introduced them as I drew closer to my siren.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lilly," Bella smiled, taking a couple of steps to meet us. Her dress parted and her long, ivory legs beckoned to me as she walked. Was she trying to kill me? She really didn't have to try this hard.

"Your name is Beautiful Swan?" Lilly asked in wonder.

Bella laughed, but her blush deepened as she offered her hand to Lilly. My cousin obligingly reached out and shook it.

"I couldn't possibly look as beautiful as you do," Bella smiled. "Are you Edward's date this evening?" She gave me a quick, rather sheepish glance.

_No, but I wish I'd thought of that, _I felt like saying.

Lilly burst into peals of giggles. "No, he's my daddy's cousin! He's my favorite. But don't tell Emmett!" She suddenly looked worried.

Bella smiled and leaned in to whisper confidentially, "Your secret is safe with me." She smelled of flowers and spice.

Lilly gave Bella, then me, a serious look. "You are both beautiful," she said sagely. "You should kiss, like my Barbie and Ken do."

Bella let out a truncated laugh, then looked nervously up at me. My cousin's reasoning tickled me thoroughly.

"Out of the mouths of babes," I mumbled, raising an eyebrow at Bella. "Do you make your Ken and Barbie kiss, Lilly?"

"Yes. But they want to, so I don't have to try very hard."

"I don't doubt that. So do you suppose you can make me and Bella kiss just as easily?"

Lilly's face scrunched in consideration. "Well, I don't know. You're a lot bigger than my Barbies."

Bella laughed again, and I joined her. It felt so good; it was such a relief. I knew we still had work to do, but I suddenly felt more confident about us than I had since our miscommunication ten agonizingly long days ago. Our eyes met again, and I hoped she could read the unspoken apology in mine. Alice had already told me that Bella felt bad about her parting shot at me that day. She only spoke the truth, and I had it coming after the way I botched delivering the news that I would no longer be her therapist. But I could see the "I'm sorry" in her expression now, a melancholy pleading that cut me to the bone. I couldn't take any more sadness in her eyes, especially if I had put it there.

I was about to put my sentiments into words when the tiny girl on my hip piped up again. "She's pretty, too. But not beautiful. Not Bella."

I managed to stop staring at Bella long enough to recognize the figure approaching from behind her. Jessica wasn't running, but she was bouncing all the same, her half-exposed melons bobbing up and down in perfect time with the tendrils of hair escaping her up-do.

"My God, Edward, this place is huge!" she exclaimed as she strode past Bella and planted herself next to me. "It took me ten minutes just to walk from the ladies' room, through the entire first floor of this, hello, _mansion_, and across this monster terrace. I had no idea your family was this loaded!"

Bella stared at Jessica in chagrin, as did I. Jessica did not seem to register our disapproval, her attention now captivated by the child in my arms.

"Oh my God, who is this? Could she be any more adorable? I seriously doubt it. I'm Jessica. What's your name?"

Confronted with this new, rather loud personality, shyness suddenly overcame my cousin. She promptly buried her face in my jacket rather than answer the question.

"Come on, now, Lillypad," I coaxed her gently, stroking her silky curls. "Don't be shy. Jessica is nice. She works for me and Emmett at our practice. She's our receptionist. She answers our phone and makes appointments for us and all kinds of very important things."

Lilly turned her head slightly so that one eye could peer out at Jessica. She quickly hid her face again, giggling at this new game.

"Aw, it's okay," Jessica smiled, tickling Lilly under the arm. Lilly squirmed and clung to me more tightly. "I was shy, too, when I was your age, believe it or not."

I was inclined toward "not."

"Bella, good to see you!" Jessica continued, turning her restless attention to the next victim. "I didn't know you'd be here. Who are you here with?"

Bella glanced at me briefly and the pink seeped into her cheeks again. "I'm here with some work colleagues, actually. My bosses and a friend." She gave me a pointed look as she uttered that last word. "It's kind of a work function - a little PR for our company."

"Oh, well, join the club," Jessica laughed with a nod at me. "Edward finally decided he could trust me to represent Cullen and Cullen in public without embarrassing him." She meant it as joke, but I couldn't help wincing. Bella caught my expression and bit her lip quickly. I knew she was holding in her laughter.

And I knew that I was hopelessly in love with her.

"Edward, where's my daddy?" Lilly interrupted plaintively, her eyes scanning the burgeoning red-and-black-attired throng.

"I don't know, honey. Why don't we go find your parents, okay?" I suggested. She nodded happily.

As I turned to go, I asked, "Can I bring you ladies some drinks on my way back?"

Jessica immediately gave me her order. "I'd love a rum and Coke. Or is that too low-brow for a party like this? How about one of those apple-tini things? Ooh-ooh, no, a mojito!"

I tried very hard not to cringe again. "Sure," I agreed. "Bella?"

"Nothing for me, thanks. Jake is actually getting us drinks right now," she said quietly, biting her lip again.

"Of course," I replied, my words more clipped than I intended.

I excused myself and went off in search of my cousin Steve so that I could return his pride and joy. I found him and his wife talking with my Uncle Bill. It seemed they were in search of Mom, who was no doubt running around after the caterers to make sure that the platters of hors d'oeuvres and champagne were being circulated properly, and that the dinner was going to be served on time. I offered to go look for her, in no hurry to return to my date, nor to see Jacob return to Bella's side.

I found Mom in the kitchen with Bill's wife Liz, buried behind the massive center island, checking under the lids of warmers and counseling the staff as if they were about to present dinner to the Pope instead of a group of charitable Seattleites.

"Why don't you let them do their jobs, Mom?" I suggested gently as I leaned over the numerous baskets of gourmet breads, fruits and cheeses covering the island countertop. "That's what you're paying them for."

She looked up in surprise, then shock. Did I look that different? A big grin lit up her face. She was the most effortlessly lovely woman I'd ever known, never more so than tonight in her elegant red gown, though it was now covered with a large apron encouraging anyone nearby to "Kiss The Cook."

"Edward!" she exclaimed at last, removing an oven mitt from her perfectly manicured hand. "You look so handsome."

"Shocking, I know," I replied. She rolled her green eyes at me and shook her head, one wisp of honey-colored hair escaping her chignon and teasing her face as she hurried around the island to greet me.

"You always look handsome. But you don't always look clean," she laughed as she gave me a hug.

"Amen," Aunt Liz interjected as she hastily re-arranged a platter of crudités, to the dismay of the server about to carry it out to the guests.

"No comments from the peanut gallery," I protested. Liz gave me a good-natured wink.

Mom grabbed my hands in hers and looked me up and down. "Oh, honey. You're really all grown up. I mean, I've known that for awhile, but… you just look so mature tonight. Like a real gentleman," she gushed.

"Well, you did raise me to be one. I guess it finally took hold despite all my efforts to avoid it."

"Stop," she ordered, giving my hands a squeeze. "You've always been a perfect gentleman, from the time you were a little boy."

I guffawed loudly at that. "I'm glad I've had you so thoroughly fooled this entire time. It did make my teenaged years a lot easier."

Her eyes raised to the ceiling once more. "I know you're no angel. But you have a good and courageous heart. And tonight, the outside looks just as dashing as the inside."

I couldn't help but smile, for a fleeting moment feeling like that bashful little boy whose mother's approval meant the world to him. _Courageous heart. _That's what I wanted more than anything. Maybe tonight I would find it.

I leaned in and gave her a kiss on one rosy cheek. "You look beautiful, Mom. And the outside has always matched the inside."

I thought she was going to tear up over that one. Instead, she seemed to shake herself slightly before quickly pulling the apron over her head and tossing it to a nearby counter.

"All right, my handsome son. Let's go greet our guests."

I offered my arm and she took it. We glided out to the loggia and chatted briefly with the guests who lingered there. Then Mom and I descended the steps to the crowded terrace and began the formal mingling. I forced myself to search for the fire-engine red satin dress that contained my date rather than seek out Bella, ten times more elegant in her basic black. I finally spotted Jessica with Emmett and Rosalie. I motioned for my brother to come our way, and he brought both girls with him.

We made the appropriate introductions; both Jessica and Rosalie managed to defy their true natures and give my mother gracious, genteel greetings. Esme Cullen has always been warm and fun-loving, but carries herself with such poise and grace that she seems to inspire the same behavior in others. I've watched her perform the miracle time and time again, and this evening was no different. My mother and father have always effortlessly commanded - and received - respect. And I've always admired them for it.

I apologized to Jessica for not getting her drink, and excused myself to visit the open bar that had been set up on the far side of the terrace. I wondered how many mojitos she would be able handle before she became loopy. I hoped it would take a few so that I wouldn't have to worry about what she'd say or do. I ordered myself a gin and tonic with the intention to nurse it slowly. I would not allow a repeat performance of my disastrous drunken behavior two weeks ago. No matter what, tonight I was going to make damned sure I kept my wits about me. In the back of my mind, I couldn't stop plotting and planning about the outcome of this evening. I didn't care that Bella came to this party with Jacob Black on her arm, or that I had made the woeful mistake of bringing Jessica Stanley.

Tonight, Bella Swan would be coming home with me.

I was halfway back to Jessica and the others, a drink in each hand, when I spotted them: Bella, Jacob, my father and a couple of his doctor friends, chatting amiably near the table I'd left earlier. My footsteps lagged as I stared at Bella. The sight of her literally took my breath away. I didn't understand how the men around her could be carrying on with their banal chit-chat, seemingly oblivious to her jaw-dropping beauty. Even Jacob had a benign smile playing at the corner of his lips, his wandering gaze distracted by the splendor of the Platt family estate. Maybe I was simply used to the posh surroundings, but I'm pretty sure I could be at the Taj Mahal and see only Bella if she were there with me.

She must have felt the weight of my eyes upon her, for hers began to stray in my direction. I slowed my pace even more, waiting, willing her gaze to find mine. A moment later, it did. I felt the tremor of the impact, a quick jolt of adrenalin feeding my hunger for her, as our eyes met and consumed. I tried to manage a smile and nod, then faintly motioned to my mom and the others as my leaden feet trod in their direction. I had no desire to go anywhere except toward Bella.

Her lips parted, the upper one twitching slightly at one corner. Her smile was slow to come as well. Her enormous eyes were doing all the talking, beseeching, inviting me in. I wondered how loudly my own were crying "yes" in answer. But somehow my legs continued independently of my wishes, returning me to my obligations of the moment. My eyes were the last to grudgingly follow suit.

"Oh, awesome, thanks!" Jessica blurted with gusto when I handed her her tall, mint-leaf infused drink. She took a sip and declared, "Oh-em-gee, this is, like, so freaking good."

I took a generous swig of gin and enjoyed the faint metallic taste of it on the back of my tongue. I had the feeling it would be all I could do to keep myself from knocking back one after the other just to get through the evening.

Instead, I let the drink grow tepid in my hand as I made the rounds with Mom, Emmett and our dates, greeting old family friends as well as new. I was grateful that Jessica seemed to be just intimidated enough by the upper-crust guest list to remain relatively quiet as the schmoozing continued. Rosalie introduced us to the higher-ups from Java Noise and their wives when they arrived, and they appeared a bit gob-smacked to discover that they would be sitting with the Cullen family at one of two head tables while the Platts occupied the other. Emmett wanted Rosalie next to him, so my enterprising brother had managed to rearrange the seating accordingly. I was a bit gob-smacked myself at this little development. I couldn't tell if it was the gin or the impending nearness to Bella that caused the warmth to spread through my body. All I knew is that I was suddenly famished and couldn't wait for dinner to begin.

The sun began its slow descent to the west, casting glittering diamonds across Puget Sound in the distance. Right about the time I realized I hadn't seen Alice arrive yet, a worried-looking Emmett pulled me aside.

"Have you seen our sister?" he asked. "It's not like her to be so late to something like this."

I glanced at my watch and realized that dinner time was drawing near. "I don't know. I hope Jasper's car didn't break down or something. You want me to give them a call?" I offered, reaching for the cell phone in my pocket.

"Maybe you should," he said. "This is beyond fashionably late, even for her."

"I'll try her first," I said, easily finding her number in my contacts. I stepped away from the crowd in order to hear better.

She picked up on the first ring. "Hey," she said breathlessly. "I know, I know. We're late. The valet just parked the car. Where are you?"

"Still on the terrace, but people are starting to be seated. Get your ass back here."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" she hissed.

"That's what she said," I heard Jasper interject with a wicked chuckle before Alice abruptly ended the call. Oh, no. _Hell_ no. I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with the implications of that comment.

Sure enough, moments later, I spotted my sister hastily dragging my best friend by the hand through the loggia. They both looked flushed and slightly disheveled as they rushed down the terrace steps toward us. I knew that look all too well.

"Tell me you were not doing what I think you were doing," I hissed quietly as soon as they were within earshot.

"We weren't doing what you think we were doing," Jasper said agreeably, his twinkling eyes admitting otherwise.

Alice smoothed her hair, then her dress. "It's your fault for having such irresistible friends."

"Thank you, darlin'," he whispered in my sister's ear. She grinned adoringly up at him.

"Oh, geezus. Couldn't you have waited until _after_ the benefit to get it on?" I shot Jasper a slightly aggravated look. A sheepish yet ultimately unapologetic expression crept over his face as he shrugged in defeat.

"Alice! There you are," Mom exclaimed with relief when she noticed the arrival of her wayward daughter. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry, Mom," Alice replied contritely. "Jasper had a little car trouble. We should have called."

I narrowed my eyes at Alice as if to say, _Car trouble, my ass. _But I wasn't surprised that she had come up with that excuse. She had probably somehow read my mind when I was wondering if that had been the hold-up. It wasn't the first time we'd had an eerie moment of clairvoyance.

"Nothing serious, I hope," Mom said to Jasper with impressive-sounding concern. I could tell that she didn't believe Alice's fib for a minute. Neither did Emmett. He raised a skeptical eyebrow at the pair, but held his tongue.

"No, just got a little low on oil. We made a quick pit-stop, filled her up and had that motor purring again in no time," he answered without missing a beat. I wanted to elbow him in the stomach for producing such a veiled innuendo in reference to my baby sister. I settled for giving him the stink eye as soon as Mom's back was turned.

Emmett had already turned his attention back to Rosalie, perhaps rescuing her from Jessica's interrogations. When I reluctantly returned to my date's side, she began filling me in on the excruciating details of Rosalie's designer gown and shoes. Even Alice, who had been shopping with Rose and Bella on that particular day, had spared me the girl-talk details.

Of course, she wasn't very forthcoming about Bella, either. But her cat-who-ate-the-canary grin every time I grilled her about the subject had given me hope during the arduously long week. If Bella had still been upset with me, Alice would not have been able to hide it. Instead, I got the distinct feeling that there was some sort of plotting going on behind my back. After seeing Bella tonight, I was pretty sure her plan was to stun me senseless at the mere sight of her. That part definitely worked. What intrigued me was whether or not she had something else up her sleeve after so thoroughly getting my attention.

Two long, rectangular banquet tables at the edge of the terrace would hold the Platt and Cullen families, while the remainder of the lawn and its paved pathways were dotted with round, red-linen covered tables seating six to eight guests each. Now that Alice had arrived, Mom herded her children and their guests toward the Cullen table, where our places were assigned with ornate name tags written in a delicate calligraphy. Mom and Dad were to sit at either end of the table, their spawn and plus-ones lined up one side, Java execs and their significant others down the other. Emmett was next to Dad and I sat at Mom's right, with Jessica, Alice, Jasper and Rosalie sandwiched in between.

And there, directly across the table from my designated chair, sat Isabella Swan. Her date was nowhere to be seen, and I secretly hoped he'd get lost on his way back from the men's room or wherever he'd disappeared to.

Bella sipped a glass of burgundy as we approached the table. The wine matched her lipstick, the colors bleeding into one as she tilted her head back to drink. I took my eyes off of her only long enough to pull out Jessica's chair for her. Dad had hurried from the foot of the table to do the same for Mom, and Bella smiled up at him, evidently impressed by his chivalry. She did say she liked a guy with manners.

Her eyes shifted quickly back to mine and I refused to let them go. As I sat down, still staring, Bella's cheeks reddened. I wondered if it was the wine or my relentless gaze that caused it. Her grin deepened and she began to look embarrassed. Perversely, this only made me want to rattle her further. I scooted my chair closer to the table, glancing underneath it long enough to locate her foot before I bumped it gently with my own.

"Excuse me, Miss Swan," I murmured, trying to sound sorry.

"No problem, Mr. Cullen," she replied with that Mona Lisa smile I was so fond of. She crossed her legs, and as she did so, she brushed the toe of her shoe slowly and deliberately up my shin. My heightened nerves carried the sensation all the way up to the hairs on the back of my neck. I took a deep breath as her eyebrow raised at me slowly, taunting me.

So this was how it was going to be? Holy fuck. No matter how quickly I could manage to maneuver her away from this party, it wouldn't be soon enough.

My mother was the first to burst the little bubble Bella and I had already created around ourselves.

"Do you know this lovely young lady, Edward?" she queried, nudging me for an introduction.

"Sorry, Mom," I replied in all sincerity this time. "This is Isabella Swan. She's an Artist and Repertoire scout for Java Noise, but I met her when she came to Emmett and I for treatment a few weeks ago," I explained. "Bella, this is my mother, Esme Cullen."

I watched them both anxiously as they smiled at one another and said "hello."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cullen," Bella said shyly. "I'm very honored to be here this evening. This is a lovely event."

"Call me Esme," Mom insisted warmly, which was code for "I like you." I relaxed a little and reached for my drink. Not surprisingly, Bella insisted that my mother call her by her nickname.

"Well, Bella, the honor is all mine, that you and your company would come help us remember my sister this way," Mom told her. "She would have loved that you work in the music business. Edward used to sit for hours with Jeanne, listening to her records while she told him stories about sneaking in to see Hendrix and Joplin playing live when she was a teenager. She got him playing the guitar, too. He's a very talented musician - he plays the piano beautifully." She stopped and gave me the I'm-so-proud-of-you smile, the kind that always makes me blush.

"I've been lucky enough to hear him. He's very talented," Bella agreed quietly. "He has a lot of gifts."

I felt my face grow even warmer, and my self-conscious fingers reached for my hair.

Mom studied Bella a moment, then me. Her expression was shrewd. "I can't argue with that," she smiled at last.

"Sorry to interrupt, but did I hear you say that your sister saw Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin perform live?" Jacob Black had returned to our table just in time to catch that little tidbit, and to butt in on our conversation.

Mom nodded and smiled. "She was a few years older than me, and she used to give our parents fits, sneaking off to see all the San Francisco bands whenever they traveled up north."

"Wow. That's so cool," Jacob commented, flashing Mom a blinding grin. "I'd give anything to have seen Hendrix in his heyday."

"Me too," Bella chimed in. "I'll bet it was fun hearing her stories." Her gaze was fixed upon me, and it had the same affect on me as the gin had.

"It was fun," I agreed. "She had a way of making you feel like you were there."

"You must miss her a lot," Bella continued, including my mother in this last observation as she gave us both sympathetic looks.

Mom nodded with a wan smile. "Her legacy lives on in Edward's living room. He kept her entire record collection, I think," she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I know, I've seen it. I'm dying to hear some of those old records," Bella enthused. Suddenly she let out a tiny gasp and her eyes darted to mine worriedly, like she had let some terrible secret slip. Mom gave me another surprised look.

"You know you're welcome back any time," I reminded Bella. I glanced over at Jacob to see if he had picked up on the fact that Bella had visited my place before. The hard look in his eyes told me that he most certainly had.

"Well, your sister sounds like she was a great lady," Jacob addressed my mother. "I'm sorry I never got a chance to meet her."

"Thank you, …?" Mom's voice trailed off as she prompted him for his name. She had no idea who the native American at our table was.

Bella's face went crimson. "I'm so sorry, I never introduced you," she apologized. "Mrs. Cullen-uh, Esme, this is an old friend of mine, Jacob Black. His band just got signed at Java Noise."

Jacob thrust his arm across the table in order to shake Mom's hand, nearly knocking Bella's wine glass in her lap. She grabbed the base of the glass and steadied it before disaster struck, while Jacob appeared oblivious to his blunder. I didn't realize how annoyed my expression must have been until I caught Bella trying to stifle a grin as she looked at me. I shook my head slightly in exasperation, wondering when I could get her away from the buffoon next to her. She looked down at her lap and bit her lip, and I knew that she was trying very hard not to laugh again. I felt her foot rest against my shin for a moment, almost in reassurance. It looked like our non-verbal communication during dinner might be vastly more entertaining than I had anticipated.

Jessica, who had been bending Alice's ear, suddenly turned in our direction and gave Jacob a curious look.

"You're in a band?" she demanded.

"Yeah, The Wolf Pack. I don't know if you've heard of us. We've only been playing the local circuit for a few months now," Jacob informed her.

"Get _out_!" Jessica exclaimed, slamming her mojito to the table for emphasis. "I just saw you guys, like, a few weeks ago at Maggie's Farm. You were freaking amazing! Why didn't I recognize you at first? Maybe it's the suit. Which is hot, by the way. So you must be the drummer, right? Am I right? I totally would have remembered you if you'd been out front." Her big blue eyes blazed at him appreciatively.

"Well, thanks," he replied with as much bashfulness as he could muster. "Bella's the one who got us a record deal with her company, so I hope to make her proud."

Bella grinned weakly at Jacob's praise. Jessica, however, was undeterred.

"Oh my God, that is awesome. Bella has great taste, right? So I'm going to be able to download a Wolf Pack CD one of these days?"

"Looks that way," Jacob answered with a growing smile. "With the help of these fine gentleman, hopefully," he added, gesturing to the Java Noise execs to his left, who in turn launched into a glowing endorsement of their latest acquisition. If Jessica wasn't sold before, she certainly was now. The way she eyeballed Jacob Black across the table left little doubt as to where her interests lay.

Jacob's feelings were a little harder to read. He seemed flattered by her interest, but I didn't know if it was enough to sway his affections away from Bella. Fortunately for me, I was sure that Jessica could keep him distracted with her chatter as long as he was trapped across the table from her. That would give me free reign to ogle and tease and caress Bella with my eyes during dinner without having to endure Jacob's constant glares at my audacity. Not that I would have let that stop me anyway. I wouldn't have been able to keep my heart off of my sleeve last night if I'd wanted to.

Only Mom was able to interrupt my preoccupation with the gorgeous creature seated opposite me. She kept us both engaged in conversation during the first couple of courses, inquiring after Bella's health since being treated by Emmett and me. Bella was forthright about her past and what led her to my office, leaving out only the part where I had foisted her off on Kate. She merely said that she was improving and didn't need to visit us as frequently anymore. I rested my foot next to hers under the table, a silent thank-you. It felt like she and I needed to sort out exactly what was going on between us before involving anyone else, let alone my mother.

By the time our entrees had arrived, the wine was flowing freely amongst everyone at our table, and so was the conversation. The talk continued to center around music, and the Java Noise crew had plenty of humorous anecdotes about their experiences in the business. It was a fitting tribute to Jeanne. I could practically hear her raucous laughter joining ours, her spirit seeming to permeate the atmosphere around us.

"Well, I'm excited to know that there's so much talent here tonight," Mom said as the dessert cart made its way around the table. I watched Bella choose a decadent-looking raspberry cheesecake, and again I noticed that the syrupy fruit matched her lips. I couldn't wait to watch her wrap her mouth around every forkful. I sentenced myself to a slice of devil's food torte, the allegory too much to resist.

"Ooh, right, Mom!" Alice exclaimed in answer to her comment. "It's almost time for 'Sing For Your Supper.' You'll have guinea pigs galore tonight."

"Guinea pigs…?" Bella echoed anxiously.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'm the only one who'll be forced to sing for his supper," I lamented, giving Mom a sideways grin. Bella's eyes widened and a tiny grin spread across her face. It amazed me that she looked so excited to hear me perform. I can't begin to describe the high that it gave me. One thing's for sure: I'd certainly never looked forward to playing at the Black and Red Ball this much before.

"Edward, I've never made you do it and you know it," Mom argued.

"Coercion through guilt is the same thing," I teased her.

"Oh, stop," she ordered. She regarded the perplexed faces around the table and began to explain. "I always have a little segment after dinner that I like to call 'Sing For Your Supper.' I put a donation hat out in front of the orchestra for our guests to throw money at anyone brave enough to sing or play along."

"Karaoke of the Rich and Famous," Emmett interjected with a grin.

Mom hushed him and continued. "It's a lot of fun, and you'd be amazed at the money we make from it. Edward usually gets the ball rolling for me with a song or two."

"Lucky me," I deadpanned.

"So which are you going to do this time, Edward?" Alice asked. "Sing or play? Or both?"

I studied Bella moment before answering. "I haven't decided yet."

"Well, that's rather… mysterious," Jessica commented. "I didn't know you could sing or play an instrument!"

"Neither did I," Rosalie's surprised voice wafted down the table. I couldn't see her from where I was sitting, but I could imagine the suspicious look that probably twisted her features at the moment. Bella blushed and put her wine glass to her lips as if wanting to dive into it and disappear. She had kept my poorly disguised secret, and evidently so had Emmett.

My decision was made. Any singing I did tonight would be for Bella's ears only.

After our table finished their desserts, Mom rose from her chair, all the men at the table following suit. She laughed and motioned for everyone except me to sit down. I followed her dutifully down the lawn to the orchestra area, hovering near the piano. My pulse began its familiar nervous gallop as Mom stood at the microphone and introduced the guests to her next fund-raising opportunity of the evening, imploring them to let their dollars do the talking if they liked what they heard.

"Once again this year, my youngest son has agreed to start things off for us tonight. Edward, why don't you tell everyone what you'll be performing?" Mom prodded, moving back and motioning for me to step up to the mic.

I hate public speaking. By comparison, disappearing behind the piano would be a cakewalk. I felt my fingers comb through my hair before I could stop them, and I knew Mom was probably dying to grab my hand to still its nervous habit.

I cleared my throat and said, "I've actually written an original piece for this evening. Tonight is a very special night, and this is for a very special person." I looked back through the sea of faces, easily finding Bella's pale perfection among them. Her eyes were wide and expectant as they looked into mine.

"This song is called 'Bella Notte'… beautiful night," I said softly, as if she were the only person there to hear me.

And when I sat down at the piano, I played her song the same way.

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**A few of you mentioned Edward playing his song for Bella at the ball, which I'm ashamed to admit I never thought of! I loved the idea and met you halfway at the end of this chapter. Thanks for the creative genius-you know who you are!**


	22. Transformation, part 2

**Sorry this chapter took so long, folks! Real Life threw me a little curve ball a couple of weeks ago. Things are getting back to normal now though.**

**I also spent some time with a little different kind of creative writing, updating my long ode to Robert Pattinson's 25th Birthday on my blog. I always have fun with rhymes, though I don't think I'm making any true poets lose sleep at night. )**

**Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for giving me fun characters to play with, and to all of you reading for your great feedback. I can never thank you enough.**

**And now, if you're a mature reader *wink*, please continue with the next chapter. It's a long one. (That's what she said!)**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Sunday, August 22 (cont'd.)**

When I sat down to write an apology to Bella in the form of a song last week, I wasn't sure what would come out. I noodled around for awhile with the chord progressions, searching for something poignant and profound, not too cloying but not too melancholy. Something that touched on the sorrow we had both been through, yet built to a hopeful end.

So the minor chords turned to major during the chorus, my bittersweet transforming to something sweeter. Once the structure of the music was established, the words followed. I can't tell you how weird, but _good_ it felt to write about someone who brings me happiness instead of pain. I know how that confession would hurt you if you could hear it, Tanya. But I can't beat myself up over the truth anymore. And the truth is, I think I've found someone who can finally heal the wounds I've let fester under the surface for so long. Someone to turn my darkness into something brighter.

My _Bella Notte_…my beautiful night.

I don't profess to know any Italian, but Bella's name cried out for a tribute of some kind. The soft, dark warmth of her eyes was my inspiration, and I wrote down the words in a rush as they came to me, humming them under my breath to the tune I had just created. They aren't the most lyrical words ever strung together, but they expressed how I felt in that moment as I thought of her.

I felt the same way last night, sitting at that piano. I hesitated for a moment after I sat down, wondering if I should sing the words. Wondering if I could. Like most of my verses, they felt so personal to me that I wasn't sure I could share them. Not with this crowd of finely dressed aristocrats, or in front of a group of record company reps. The sentiments were from me to Bella. They were meant only for her.

I decided that she was the only one I would share them with. So I played an instrumental version of her melody, building to a sweeping chorus once, then once more after the second verse. I added some artistic flourishes at the end - a few piano gymnastics that might draw more dollars for the cause.

The applause when I was finished seemed fairly loud; more than polite clapping, at any rate. A few patrons left their tables to toss bills and coins into the large bowler hat Mom had set prominently at the foot of the stage; then more got up when she asked me for an encore.

I hadn't really prepared anything else, so I did a bit of improvising, then settled into the familiar choppy chords of "Heart and Soul," which drew a few laughs and even got Mom singing a couple of bars. After that I took an exaggerated bow before leaving the stage, while Mom encouraged the crowd to be brave and come on up.

As I returned to our table, Bella's boss Mark, whom I'd met a couple of weeks ago, pushed back his chair and headed for the orchestra, to loud fanfare from our group. When he got to the stage, he borrowed the upright bass from its owner and launched into an impressive jazz piece, complete with some rather skilled scatting over the top of it.

"Who knew?" I heard Rosalie exclaim, whistling appreciatively.

"He used to be the bass player in a grunge band twenty years ago," Bella explained as I took my seat.

"No shit," Jacob interjected with a laugh. "Look at him go!"

"A bass is a bass," I smiled, thinking that Jazz could probably do the same thing. In fact, I planned on encouraging him to get up there himself.

I was suddenly physically assaulted by a small, warm creature that nearly knocked me off my chair. Peals of giggles and dark curls alerted me to the fact that it was my tiny cousin again, who had left the Platt table and hurled herself at my lap. I laughed and picked her up, sitting her on my thigh.

"You were so good, Edward," she told me. "Mommy and Daddy said you are the best piano player they've ever heard."

"Your mommy and daddy are biased," I smiled, waving over at my cousin and his wife. "But it's very nice to hear all the same."

"You did a Bella song," she asserted, looking across the table at the song's subject. "I heard you say so."

"You have good hearing, Lilly. That was my Bella song." I looked into the brown eyes across from mine to catch her reaction. The emotion on Bella's face was unmistakable. I couldn't help the smile it brought to my own.

"You made up that song? For Bella?" Lilly asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, I did. Do you think it was even half as beautiful as she is?"

Lilly pondered a moment. "Yes, I think so. I liked it."

"Well, your seal of approval is all I need." My gaze drifted back to Bella's. "Almost."

"I think there are few who wouldn't approve," Bella answered softly.

A quick glance at Jacob told me otherwise. His words were kind, but his tone was brittle. "Nice chops there, Cullen. Guitar _and_ piano - impressive."

I gave him a rather insincere smile. "Maybe you should get up there and show off a bit of your own talents. I'm sure the percussion section could use a hand."

He emitted a staccato laugh. "That's not exactly the type of music I'm used to playing. Maybe after another drink or two," he allowed, raising his glass.

"I'd need a lot of liquid courage to get up there," Jessica exclaimed. "Like, tequila shots or something. God, that would be awesome. Would it be bad to mix that with the rum I've already drunk?" She laughed giddily.

"I wouldn't recommend it," I warned her, hoping she wasn't serious. Before I could stop her, she grabbed her purse, scooted out of her chair and made a beeline for the bar. I cringed as my eyes followed her, and Bella didn't stifle her laughter this time.

I felt an insistent tug on my tie. "Edward, are you going to dance with me tonight?" my cousin demanded, pouting because my attention had strayed.

"Of course, Lillypad. You'll be my first dance of the evening, as soon as a few more people hit the terrace."

The sun was waning, and the staff began to light numerous iron torches that had been planted all along the edge of the party area. A few couples were brave enough to stroll out to the terrace and dance as another guest took the mic to sing, her sultry mezzo-soprano a big hit amongst the attendees. Mark returned to our table to loud hooting and hollering, while Dad and Jake both commented that his performance was worth a donation. They both left the table to go make a deposit, and my eyes locked with Bella's as soon as her date was gone.

"Edward, that song was…amazing," she whispered, leaning toward me over the table. "Thank you."

"Well, I think that had something to do with the person who inspired it," I answered. "It couldn't possibly do you justice." I couldn't stop staring at her perfectly painted lips. I wanted to lick and suck on them until their natural pink hue shone through.

She shook her head at me, looking slightly overwhelmed. Maybe I had said too much again, but I didn't want to hold it in anymore. I felt her shoe against my shin again, delicate but deliberate, rubbing slowly up and down until the sensation traveled up to my groin. I knew I needed to leave the table immediately or suffer the horror of getting an erection while a tiny child sat on my lap.

"Okay, little one, let's go have that dance, shall we?" I suggested hastily. I gave Bella an apologetic look, then picked Lilly up and carried her to the terrace. She squealed with glee as I drew her in with the other dancers, whirling her around in time to the music and then finally setting her tiny feet upon my shoes. She stared, fascinated, as I moved my feet, her own helplessly transported along with them. She looked up at me with a heart-breakingly adorable expression as her hands squeezed mine, hanging on for dear life.

When the song ended, I picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You are an excellent dancer, Lilly. I'm very honored that you were my first dance tonight."

"I am honored too," she repeated solemnly. "Now you have to dance with Bella."

"You think so, huh? I'm afraid she has another date tonight, and so do I."

Lilly looked up at me with a frown. "But you and Bella belong together."

I gave her a surprised look, amazed at how astute a four-year-old could be.

"How do you know that?" I asked her.

"You just do," she answered in a tone that indicated I was obviously some sort of simpleton.

"I can't argue with that logic," I told her with a grin. I took her back to her parents, who apologized for her bothering me. I assured them that it was no bother to dance with the prettiest girl at the party.

As I turned to go back to our table, half of its occupants pushed back their chairs, paired up and headed for the terrace to dance. The mezzo-soprano had settled in for a mini-concert, it seemed, and the old classics she sang were drawing people to the stage with wallets in hand before they hit the dance floor.

Bella was staring fixedly at her lap. I wondered if she was trying to avoid an invitation from Jake, who was eying her in a way that annoyed me greatly. Jessica was sucking the dregs of her latest mojito noisily through a straw, her empty shot glass discarded nearby. Dad got up and headed for the orchestra, either to help Mom with the emceeing or grab her for a twirl or two of their own. I glanced down at Jessica, her cleavage really quite impressive from my vantage point. I'd never been so disinterested in a great pair of breasts in my life.

I sighed and decided I'd might as well get it over with: I'd better ask my date to dance.

"Shall we?" I said as I caught her eye and offered her my hand.

"What, you mean dance? Well, I don't really know how to dance to this old stuff, but yeah, sure," she agreed, taking my hand. Bella looked up at me with what I wanted to believe was longing before we turned to go. Frustration began to build inside me as I led the wrong girl to the terrace and guided her gently across the flagstones. I'm not a great dancer, but it didn't matter because Jessica didn't really know how to foxtrot anyway. I stared absent-mindedly over her shoulder at the other couples around me, mostly middle-aged and older, but some young, like my siblings and their partners. The latter all looked amazingly cozy for dating such a brief amount of time. My annoyance at my own situation grew as I sighed a bit too heavily into Jessica's stiffly-sprayed hairdo.

"You know, Edward, it was really cool of you to ask me here tonight, and I appreciate rubbing shoulders with your dad's doctor buddies and all," Jessica began, unable to keep quiet for more than three minutes at a stretch. "But I have to ask you something. Why didn't you ask Bella to this soiree instead of me?"

I blinked in a surprise a couple of times, pausing to make sure she was finished. "Why do you think I should have asked Bella?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you two haven't been able to keep your eyes - and feet - off of each other all night. That was kind of a tip-off, there. But even Helen Keller would have been able to pick up on the UST between the two of you."

"'Ust?'" I repeated blankly.

"Unresolved Sexual Tension. It's an acronym, get it? Don't you ever text or tweet or anything? Oh, right, never mind. Don't answer that," she muttered, giving me a look as if I were some hopelessly out-of-touch old man. "Anyway, the UST is, like, ridiculous between you guys. I mean, even the four-year-old figured it out. So I'm just trying to figure out why you're dancing with me right now instead of Bella."

I looked down into Jessica's clear blue eyes, amazingly sharp considering how many drinks she had downed. I suddenly realized why Emmett had hired her. She might come across as an airhead, but in truth, the girl doesn't miss much.

"I guess I'm more obvious than I thought," I admitted sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or make you feel like second fiddle. That really wasn't my intention."

She rolled her eyes dismissively. "Oh, no, you didn't hurt my feelings or anything. I mean, you're my boss. Yeah, you're handsome and charming and whatever, but I just don't think about you _that_ way, you know? That would be weird. Plus, you're, like, way too uptight for me. No offense."

I laughed with relief. "None taken. But I don't feel right about the reason I asked you to the ball. The truth is, I knew Bella would be here with Jacob Black, and I couldn't stand the thought of showing up alone," I admitted cautiously.

"So you played the jealousy card," Jessica grinned knowingly. "I totally get that. Sounds like something I'd do, actually. I'm completely fine with you and Bella being endgame for the evening. In fact, I am more than prepared to comfort her date when she dumps him at the end of the night. He is hot and a half. Seriously." She fanned her face with her hand for emphasis. "Ooh, and speak of that little devil…."

I looked over in the direction Jessica's eyes had strayed to see Jacob Black leading Bella by the hand to the terrace. They stopped several couples away from us and assumed the ballroom dance position, his left hand grasping her right, his other hand on her waist. I hated watching him touch her, even in the generic posture of a public dance. When the hell did I get so jealous?

"Stop looking so murderous," Jessica advised as I spun her around. "Look cool. Unconcerned. Better yet, pretend we're having the most awesome time together. Make Bella wish a black hole would swallow me so she could take my place. Milk it, Edward!"

I couldn't help but snicker at her plotting.

"That's it! Laugh. Look alive. That will get her attention much better than all that mooning," she continued. She let out a big, fake laugh herself, which made me chortle again.

"You know, it's pretty big of you to help me out instead of getting pissed and storming out of here. You have every right to tell me to go to hell," I told her.

"Well, believe it or not, I'm kind of fond of my job and I'd like to keep it. I'm thinking of going into your line of work, as a matter of fact. I'm hoping some of what you do will rub off on me through osmosis."

I stared at her in mild shock. "Your job would never be in jeopardy for not going along with my nefarious schemes. You know that, right?"

She literally snorted with laughter. "'Nefarious schemes?' Edward, I hate to break it to you, but you're about as nefarious as Clark Kent. Honestly, you say the weirdest stuff sometimes!"

I grinned in acknowledgement. "Yeah, I know." I paused a moment, now seeing my date in a different, more favorable light. "I have to say, I'm actually glad I invited you here tonight, Jessica. Jacob Black would be lucky to have you."

"Thank you," she smiled with satisfaction. "Now all we have to do is convince him of that."

"I have complete confidence that you will figure out a way to make that happen."

Jessica waggled her eyebrows in agreement.

The song came to a close, and smatterings of applause filled the air. A few shouts of "Encore!" spurred the singer on, and she was only too happy to launch into another classic after a quick conference with the orchestra.

"Good God, this song is even slower than the last one," moaned my companion.

"We can sit this one out," I offered, only too happy to comply.

"No-no-no, wait! You should totally cut in on Jake and Bella," Jessica exclaimed, her eyes bright from the light bulb that had just turned on in her head. "You know, all old-school suave and Cary Grant-like."

The desire to do exactly what she suggested eclipsed my surprise that she knew who Cary Grant was. She must have seen the sudden determination on my face because she began pushing me in the couple's direction.

I didn't need that much prodding. I strode purposefully toward the edge of the terrace where Jake and Bella stood, swaying to the music. I made sure to use my smoothest, most persuasive voice.

"Excuse me. May I cut in?" I asked Jacob, politely but firmly.

He glowered up at me, his irritation poorly disguised. I suddenly heard Jessica pipe up behind me.

"Maybe we could swap partners for a song or two," she suggested with infectious enthusiasm. "It'll be fun. What do you say?"

Jacob's face softened slightly, probably so as not to offend Jessica.

"Sure," he agreed a bit sullenly, stepping away from Bella, his hands dropping away from hers. I wasted no time in claiming her abandoned fingers for myself as I drew her into the crowd with me. I couldn't believe how good it felt to touch her again, to pull her close. My right hand closed around her tiny waist while my left hand captured her right. Her high heels made her taller, bringing her face near enough for me to feel her breath on my chin as she looked up at me. She smelled of wine now, mixed with the flowers and spice I'd caught earlier.

"God, I missed you," I murmured as I moved her slender body with mine in time to the music.

She nodded slowly, her eyes hypnotic. "I missed you, too."

We fell silent. The mezzo-soprano's voice filled in the dialogue for us, the old lyrics still a perfect expression of new love.

_It's not the pale moon that excites me_  
_That thrills and delights me, oh no_  
_It's just the nearness of you_

_It isn't your sweet conversation_  
_That brings this sensation, oh no_  
_It's just the nearness of you_

_When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me_  
_All my wildest dreams come true_

_I need no soft lights to enchant me_  
_If you'll only grant me the right_  
_To hold you ever so tight_  
_And to feel in the night the nearness of you*_

I never knew it was possible to stare into someone's face, search someone's eyes, for an entire song. There was no embarrassed laughter, no skittish glances aside. Just complete submersion in one another without a single thought of anyone or anything else. Our eyes were carrying on the conversation that we had tried and failed to have last week, and it was far more effective than the clumsy words we had exchanged.

But I knew that our wordless communication couldn't last. I needed to find out exactly what I'd done wrong so that I wouldn't repeat my mistake. I wanted to clear the air between us and move forward.

I glanced around after the song came to a close; Jacob and Jessica were not in the immediate vicinity.

"Come with me," I whispered in Bella's ear. My hand still clutching hers, I pulled her gently toward the sprawling garden north of the terrace, then down the path I knew best.

The sun had all but set in the west, the waters of the Sound glowing pale pink and orange in the distance. Bella's skin was iridescent porcelain in the fading light, and I kept stealing glances at her luminous face as we maneuvered the winding garden path.

"Wow," she breathed as I led her through the walks lined with hedgerows, many taller than I was. "You told me this garden was a maze, but I had no idea. This almost looks like something out of Harry Potter!"

I laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. "But nowhere near as dangerous. You can't get too lost in here. Every path leads back to the perimeter eventually, or to a little nook, like… this," I announced as we turned a corner and came to my favorite place in the garden.

The path we were on ended abruptly up ahead. The hedgerow remained only on one side of the walk, a waist-high retaining wall lining the other and forming an enclosed "L" abutting the hedges. Rose bushes of varying hues were planted symmetrically along the ledge of the stone wall, their splashes of color interrupted only by soft green grass growing in between. At the enclosure before us was planted a large rose trellis, its latticework dripping a profusion of ruby-red roses that climbed six feet high. In front of that picturesque backdrop sat an ornate iron bench for two.

"Edward," Bella gasped quietly, her pace slowing as we neared the end of the path. "This looks like something out of a fairy tale."

"I know. I used to come and read here as a kid. I'd bring a blanket to throw on the bench and I'd sit here for hours. It was nice to get away from Emmett every now and then. And Alice, for that matter," I added with a laugh.

She grinned up at me and I motioned for her to sit down. I sat close to her, turning toward her, unable to look at anything else. I reached tentatively for her hair; her lips parted in unspoken invitation. I gently pushed the chestnut waves away from her face, one finger lightly brushing the soft pink satin of her cheek.

"You look incredible tonight," I told her. "I keep trying to find the right words, but there really aren't any that are adequate."

Even in the dusk that filtered through the trellis behind us, I could see her blush deepen. She smiled and reached up to take my hand in hers.

"You clean up pretty well yourself. It's really not fair, the way you look in that suit. And then you have to go and be so sweet with your little cousin…." She shook her head at me, her expression almost aggravated. "That's like a double-whammy on my hormones, you know."

"You like kids?" I grinned, teasing her. I was fairly certain that babies were the last thing on Bella's mind at her age, when she was so focused on her career.

"Well, yeah, of course. In theory. Not in practice. I mean, not yet, anyway. I didn't mean… I wasn't trying to suggest anything or scare you with that comment," she stuttered, clearly flustered. "Um, why are we talking about this?"

I let out a rueful chuckle. "I have no idea. It seems like I'm always saying the wrong thing. I don't know why I can't seem to get it right with you. It's driving me crazy." My fingers let go of hers and raked anxiously through my hair instead.

"How can you say that?" Bella asked, sounding exasperated. "You write me the most beautiful song I've ever heard, and play it for me in front of everyone at your parents' party, and you still think you aren't getting it right? Edward, if you were any more perfect, I couldn't handle it. You already overwhelm me completely. You take my breath away. You look at me like - like _that _- and I can't breathe."

Whatever way it was that she accused me of looking at her, I couldn't stop doing it. Her words thrilled and maddened me in equal measure.

"So you're telling me that I'm doing everything so right that it's actually… wrong?" I questioned her, baffled.

"Something like that," she answered, that damned crease forming over the bridge of her nose.

I let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "That's… wow." I couldn't even find the words to describe how fucked up that sounded to me. "I can't win with you either way, then. Is that it?"

"No!" she exclaimed, her agitation growing to meet my own. "You can't _lose_ with me. That's what you don't seem to get."

I stared at her, incredulous. "If I can't lose with you, then what the hell happened last week? I tried to explain to you that I want to make something work between us, and I screwed it up so royally that you ended up telling me you wanted time apart to think about everything instead."

Bella's face fell. "We both screwed up. I never should have made that crack about you not being a doctor. I overreacted when you said you weren't going to treat me anymore. I knew why you were doing it, but in that moment all I felt was this irrational fear that you were abandoning me when I needed you most-just when I was finally making some progress."

I shook my head penitently. "The way I blurted it out was thoughtless and cruel. But I was surprised that you took it so hard. I didn't think my suggestion would shock you as much as it did. You knew how I felt about mixing my personal life with my professional one."

"I know, I did. Like I said, my reaction was out of line. Sometimes I let my emotions run away with my logic. I realize that's a foreign concept for you," she added with a wry laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked cautiously, wondering if I should feel offended.

"You always think first before you act. Your head rules your heart," Bella said matter-of-factly, as if she were stating the obvious.

"Well, yeah, usually," I agreed, thinking that this was an attribute, not a detriment. "But that doesn't mean I don't have any feelings."

"I know that. You just don't ever give them free reign. At least not when you're sober."

Aha. Now we were getting somewhere. "And when I'm not sober?"

Her eyes fell in the vicinity of my chest. She slid her hand under the lapel of my jacket and pressed her palm over the crisp shirt fabric that covered my rapidly beating heart. "Then you let me see a little bit of what's really going on in here," she replied softly.

"Bella," I whispered, placing the crook of my index finger under her chin to lift her face to mine. "The alcohol didn't make me say or do anything that night that I wouldn't have done stone cold sober. I wish to God I hadn't been drunk. You deserved so much better than that from me. I wish I could go back and do all of it differently."

Her dark eyes suddenly flashed with anger as she leapt up from the bench. "You keep saying that. Do you have any idea how insulting that is? What would you do differently, Edward? What exactly do you regret? All the beautiful things you said to me? Or are you sorry for giving me the best orgasm of my life?"

I gaped up at her, dumbfounded. I thought back to how I had apologized for my behavior over and over… and _this_ was how she interpreted it? She was trembling, her breath coming fast, her chest heaving. Her face flooded red, either from embarrassment or fury, I wasn't sure which. Then she whirled around and stormed back down the garden path.

I only let her get a dozen feet away before I caught up to her. My hand closed around her arm and gently yanked her to a halt, turning her to face me.

"You know I don't regret anything that happened between us," I insisted between gritted teeth. "I only regret the way I did it, so drunk off my ass that I wasn't even man enough to make love to you the way I wanted to, the way you deserve."

I hated even thinking about that brief foray into impotence, let alone alluding to it out loud. Outraged at the memory and hell-bent on proving itself, my dick was already stirring to life as Bella stared up at me with wild eyes.

"Are you man enough now?" she taunted, raising her chin in challenge.

"What do you think?" I replied, my voice husky as I pulled her roughly to me. My hands dropped to her hips, fingers on the small of her back, pushing her against my growing erection. Her eyes widened slightly and she gasped; her lips exhaled wine into mine as her hands reached up for my neck, fingers tracing my jaw.

"If you had any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now…." My words trailed off as I gazed hungrily at her burgundy lips.

"What's stopping you?" she whispered, eyes beckoning.

I shook my head as a wan smile curved the corner of my mouth. "If I do, that pretty lipstick of yours will be all over your face, and mine. I don't think you want to go back to the party like that, with the evidence of what we were doing literally written on your face."

"I don't care," she said defiantly, grabbing my tie to pull me closer.

"You'll care when the first person you run into is the president of Java Noise. Or your buddy Jake." _For fuck's sake, Cullen, when will you ever learn?_

Her pretty lips pressed together in a not-so-pretty sneer. "Stop it. Stop using him as an excuse to keep this from happening."

"I'm not. He's not an excuse - he's a fact. And it's not just him. We both have a lot of people only a few yards away who are going to come looking for us if we're gone too long."

"They'll never find us here," she insisted, glancing around at our rose-covered shelter in the first shadows of impending twilight. She pressed herself against me, pushing her thigh between mine, rubbing against my groin. My cock swelled and stretched toward her in response, straining against the fabric of my trousers. My hands began to roam up and down her back, then lower, desperate for the feel of those round cheeks between my fingers. Bella pulled at my tie again, loosening it; then ran her fingers down the buttons of my shirt to the waistband of my pants.

She didn't stop there. Her hand continued its journey, working its way between our bodies until it found the outline of my erection. Her fingers wrapped around it through my slacks, stroking it up and down, then reaching lower and cupping my balls, squeezing them before traveling the length of my dick again.

"Bella, please," I rasped helplessly, only too willing to give in to her seduction. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"What makes you think I can't finish it?" she replied with the raise of an eyebrow. "I can think of several ways, actually." With shocking speed, her hands found the tab waist of my pants and unfastened the closure. The minute she pulled the zipper down, my grateful cock sprang upward. The invigorating shock of the cool night air was soon replaced by the warmth of her hand, gripping my naked flesh firmly and milking a shaky moan from my mouth.

"You went commando?" she marveled, stroking my member up and down in a maddeningly slow rhythm. "Maybe you were more ready for this than I thought."

"I was born ready," I scoffed, then grew serious as her hand continued to work magic.

"Come on, Bella. You can't want this," I protested weakly. How could she possibly want our first time together to be a frantic quickie in my uncle's garden with hundreds of people nearby? "Not here. Not like this."

"If you touch me right now, you'll know exactly what I want," she murmured, her voice low and convincing. "Stop assuming what I want or don't want. That's the only thing you keep doing wrong, if you're so hell-bent on me finding a flaw in you." Her second hand joined the first, pushing my pants down, massaging my entire groin and reducing my thought processes to a mere crumb.

"But our first time should be…." I faltered, not wanting to impose my ideals on her yet again. Instead, I waited. And listened, this time.

"Edward," she said softly, her eyes drawing mine into their hypnotic depths. Her fingers gently trailed up and down my abdomen, sending shivers in every direction. "I don't care where or how our first time happens… as long as you promise me it's not our last."

The shuddering breath that escaped my lungs was one of complete and total surrender. I wondered if she had any idea of the effect she had on me. She didn't just take my breath away. In that moment she took my inhibitions, my fears and my mistrust and crushed them into dust. There was only Bella, here, now. Nothing else mattered.

"I promise," I whispered hoarsely.

I backed her against the stone wall and lifted her up on the ledge, seating her between two gorgeous rose bushes that still couldn't compare to her beauty. I was reminded of hoisting her atop her kitchen counter that fateful night two weeks ago. It was the first time I had showered her with kisses, the first time I'd bared her sweet breasts, the first time I had wrapped those long legs around me. Now, her ruby lips taunted me no end, but I refused to smear that lipstick - I would give her no reason to regret this later. My lips found her cheek, her jaw, her neck instead. Her head tilted back, letting my hand and my mouth trace the long, delicate line from her chin to her collarbone.

"Beautiful swan," I whispered into the hollow of her throat. She sighed, her hands twisting in my hair, sending tingles down my neck. My lips searched her ivory chest, working their way down to one breast, then the other, as I pushed the draped V-neck of her dress aside to reveal them. My tongue savored the feel of each soft, pink nipple hardening under its caress, Bella's sighs and moans an accompaniment sweeter than any music. I ran my thumbs over each rigid peak, then licked and nibbled and sucked on them until they were bright pink and swollen from the abuse. Bella's fingers tightened in my hair, pulling roughly at it in retribution.

My dick was throbbing with need by now, and I couldn't wait any longer. I fumbled with the belt of her ebony dress, untying it and hastily pulling at the fabric until one side opened. The wrap dress was still closed on the other side by a silky black ribbon, which thankfully unraveled with one pull. The sides of the dress fell away easily then, exposing her to my greedy gaze. I leaned back to let my eyes take in her tiny waist, the subtle curve of her hips, the flat plane of her belly and the gentle swell of her thighs spread open before me. Between them lay a scrap of scarlet lace, attached by delicate bows to two strings of satin that disappeared around her hips.

My eyes slowly traveled back up her delectable body, my hands following suit, caressing the soft ivory curves that led to her neck. I placed my hands on either side of Bella's face, looking deeply into her eyes.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on," I said simply. What I lacked in originality, I was certain I made up for in sincerity. I couldn't remember ever wanting, craving, needing someone this badly in my life. I leaned in and grazed my mouth gently against hers, just enough to feel the sticky sweetness of her candy-flavored gloss. She opened her mouth and set her tongue free, tracing my lips with it before sliding it in between them. My hands gripped her face more firmly as my tongue met hers, twirling and dancing in slippery sync as we kissed with our lips barely touching. The idea that her lips were temporarily forbidden suddenly made this careful kiss the most erotic I had ever had.

"Fuck," I murmured softly as we finally parted, unable to restrain myself. I was afraid my penchant for cursing when emotionally overwhelmed was about to be revealed. We were both panting now, and my breathing only became more labored as I watched Bella's nimble fingers work on the buttons of my shirt, opening them swiftly. I removed my suit jacket and tossed it in the direction of the iron bench, not really caring if the expensive garment met its target. I only cared about Bella's fiery hands on me, pushing my shirt open, fingers splaying over my chest and slowly raking down my stomach. I mimicked the motion on her as well, savoring the warm creaminess of her skin and the twitching of her nerves underneath as I reached the sensitive spots I knew so well.

I eyed her crimson panties and debated ripping the flimsy fabric from her body. The thought of her spending the rest of the evening with no underwear on had my dick so engorged that I could feel my pulse throbbing through its length.

But for now, I settled for pushing the lace aside with my right hand and stroking her smooth labia until my fingers sank into the soft flesh between. She moaned and leaned back slightly on her hands, tilting her hips upward to grant me better access.

Suddenly my eyes popped open in surprise as I realized what I was seeing and feeling in the waning light. The skin of Bella Swan's pussy was as naked as the day she was born: completely hairless, pink and glistening with moisture as my curious fingers spread her open.

"What did you do?" I asked pointlessly, searching her eyes for explanation. "You know you didn't need to do this for me."

"Maybe I did it for me," she answered with rather false bravado. "Do you like it?"

The wan half-smile found my lips again. "I like _you. _So I like whatever else comes - or doesn't come - with the package." My eyes dropped to admire her utterly exposed anatomy again as I stroked it up and down.

"You're being perfect again," she accused half-heartedly.

"Sorry. But you make it easy."

"Stop!" she laughed. Her laughter ended abruptly, replaced with a soft cry when I pushed my first two fingers into the creamy heat of her opening.

I leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I do like it. Easier access."

She stroked my cheek, then my jaw. "I wanted to know what it would feel like with nothing between us. Nothing at all." Her hand drifted down my body and wrapped itself around the swollen tip of my cock, then began pumping the length of my shaft in rhythm with my fingers stroking her deep inside. Her head fell back and she whimpered softly. I caught the back of her neck in my other hand, massaging it as my lips found her face again.

"I wish we could find out what that's like," I sighed in her ear, wanting nothing more than to bury my naked cock inside her this minute instead of having to fumble for the condoms in my wallet.

"What what's like?" she asked groggily, gripping me harder, making me moan along with her.

"Sex with nothing between us. Nothing at all," I repeated her words.

"What's stopping you?" she asked again.

"Remember that conversation we had about kids a few minutes ago…?" I reminded her gently, understanding perfectly why her brain might be in a fog right now.

"Oh," she said with a small giggle, her breath tickling my ear. "Don't worry about that. I'm on the pill. I have been for over a year."

I nuzzled her neck, pondering that bit of information. I couldn't remember the last time I'd ridden bareback, if ever. I always used a condom, no exceptions. But suddenly I was seized with the desire to throw caution to the wind and go for it, now, this minute.

"There are other reasons to use protection," I heard myself say, to the annoyance of every part of my body except my brain.

"Have you been tested?" she asked point blank. She stopped stroking me long enough to look me in the eyes with dead earnestness. I reluctantly withdrew my hand from her as well.

I nodded slowly. "I have, actually. I'm clean. As of four months ago, anyway. And I haven't been with anyone since then."

"I'm clean, too," she said. "I got tested after my college boyfriend and I broke up, just to be sure. And I haven't been with anyone since him, either," she added softly, her eyelids lowering, as if this was somehow an embarrassing admission.

"I'm glad," I told her, lifting her chin gently to make her look at me. "I can't stand the thought of anyone else touching you."

"Well, that's one thing we agree on, then. I don't want anyone else touching me, either. Only you." The need, the desire in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees.

"Make me yours, Edward," she urged, her voice as soft as her silken hair beneath my fingers. She scooted closer to me and slid her arms around me, planting her hands firmly on my backside, propelling me to her. It was killing me how forward she was being tonight; how much she wanted this, wanted me.

"I intend to," I whispered into her ear, my tongue playing with the soft lobe as my hands continued to tangle her hair. "It's only fair, after all. You already own me completely."

"I do?" she asked, sounding both uncertain and pleased at once.

"How could you doubt it?" was my answer as my mouth drifted along her jaw. Her sigh sounded like one of relief.

"Mine," she asserted throatily, her hot breath a welcome brand on my cheek.

Her hands snaked up my back, then down again, fingers spreading over my cheeks, pulling me more tightly to her. The tip of my straining cock was already slippery with fluid before it ever met its new home. It slid easily past the useless patch of lace between Bella's legs and directly into her warm, wet opening, making me groan at the promise of what was to come. It was all I could do to keep from plunging into her with swift, brutal abandon, but I managed to pull back slightly instead. I wanted to savor this moment; savor her.

"Lean back on your hands again," I ordered softly into her ear. She gave my ass a hard squeeze before she let go of it, forcing a growl from my throat. My eyes raked over her with blatant lust as she leaned back, tilting her hips up in invitation. I grabbed the satin cords of her g-string and pulled, but not hard enough to rip the fabric. She would need those panties later. I yanked them down her legs and over her stilettos, then stuffed them into the front pocket of the trousers bunched around my thighs.

"So fucking hot," I sighed under my breath, unable to control myself as I stared at her. My hands pushed slowly, firmly up the length of her inner thighs, knee to groin, forcing her legs open wide. I loved seeing her sex unveiled so completely, clitoris bright pink and quivering, vaginal muscles involuntarily squeezing open and shut in anticipation of being filled. I traced the sensitive, puckered flesh down to the shiny wet opening with my index finger, teasing it until it was dripping wet. Bella's eyes closed and her breath quickened, punctuated by small whimpers and moans.

"I think you're ready for me," I murmured with a faint grin.

"I was born ready for you," she mocked my earlier words, adding her own twist.

I ran my fingers lightly up and down her open legs, over the smooth skin of her hips, her stomach, her breasts. My greedy hands neglected no part of her, worshipping this beautiful body that I was about to enter and possess. She reached one hand out to grasp my cock again, stroking and pulling on it roughly until my breathing was labored and my desire was beyond control.

I pulled her to the edge of the wall, my hand closing over hers on my cock. I guided it to her until the head met her clit, and we both groaned at the contact. Our hands worked in tandem, rubbing my rigid member up and down the length of her, pushing just the tip inside her and out again, until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I pulled her hand away and sank my cock more deeply into her, again forcing moans from both of us in desperate unison. My eyes locked with hers as I pulled out almost completely, then pushed in again, deeper this time. She cried out softly, but her hips lifted to meet mine, pulling me in.

I continued this slow, inexorable plunder of her pussy with rhythmic precision, each time withdrawing almost completely before plunging further inside. The primal grunts and sighs coming from me were matched by hers as I filled her again and again, stretching her, shaping her to me. The soft, wet ridges of her vagina were like nothing I'd ever felt before; a million microscopic fingers massaging my unprotected cock into a frenzy, coaxing it to thrust harder and faster into that exquisite pocket of flesh.

I could tell that Bella was trying to stifle her cries, the faint noise and music of the party in the distance a reminder of how illicit our behavior was. It only seemed to spur us both on, making us more wanton and desperate, knowing that people were probably looking for us by now and we might get caught. Bella leaned further back, transferring her weight from her hands to her elbows, elongating her torso and allowing her pelvis to lunge up to meet mine. I grasped her hips and held them steady as I rammed my cock into her again and again, overwhelmed at the exquisite, almost unbearable friction that our naked flesh created together.

"Holy fuck," I moaned as I gazed down at her, unimaginably gorgeous as she lay before me, her breasts surging upward with my every thrust. Every fantasy I'd ever had about her paled in comparison to the stunning reality of her body beneath mine. And yet it still wasn't enough - I wanted more from her. I wanted to push her to the edge, maybe so I wouldn't be teetering there alone.

"Lie back," I commanded as I leaned over her. "You're going to take every last inch of me, Bella. Nothing between us." Her eyes were dark and glassy with desire as she gazed up at me.

I gently pulled her arms out from under her until she was flat on her back, hair spread out in the grass, the rosebushes on either side forming a colorful canopy of petals high above her while her open dress made a blanket beneath her. I ran my hands up and down her body again, still awed that this amazing creature was allowing me inside.

When I reached her knees, I lifted them up and pushed them back. I brought one scarlet shoe up to my shoulder, kissing her ankle, then working my mouth down her slender calf. I lifted her other leg high and did the same. Her ankles now resting on my shoulders, I guided my missile between her legs once again, firing deep, hitting the target with perfect precision.

"Fuck!" she gasped as my balls slapped her ass, my cock buried inside her to the hilt. I couldn't help but smirk at her expletive.

"I'm glad it's not just me," I mumbled, half to myself, before drilling her again. She moaned more loudly than before, and it turned me on so much that I wanted to fuck her like a jackhammer until she screamed and swore at me like a sailor.

But more than that, I wanted her to come. I wanted to make her come even harder than she had the last time, because my dick was sick of being jealous of my fingers.

I slowly leaned my body forward, pushing her legs further back with each thrust, gradually changing the angle so that my cock would press more deeply inside her each time. She was surprisingly limber, and I was amazed at the progress she'd made in the two weeks since I'd last treated her. Before I knew it, my hands were in the grass on either side of her, Bella's legs bent all the way back, her ankles still straddling my shoulders as I rammed her thoroughly and relentlessly. Her hands gripped my arms and her neck arched as her face twisted in what I hoped wasn't pain.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" I gasped.

Her eyes flew open with surprise. "No," she assured me breathlessly. "It's just so… intense. I can't…." Her words failed and she shook her head.

I let go of her legs and let them relax on either side of my hips. I leaned down over her, pressing my torso against the warm length of hers, my fingers disappearing into her hair as I kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Put your arms around my neck," I murmured into her ear. She obeyed, her eyes trusting as they gazed up into mine. "Now wrap your legs around me." She obeyed once more, locking her ankles around my waist. I maneuvered until my cock found her heat again, then slowly slid all the way inside. She inhaled sharply, then let the air out in a low sigh.

"Hang on," I told her. I placed my hands behind her shoulders and pulled her with me as I stood upright. When she was sitting on the ledge again, I slid my fingers between her dress and the round flesh of her ass, gripping her firmly. Then I lifted her completely off the stone wall and let gravity pull her body downward, my rock-hard dick driving upward, deep in her belly.

"Oh, God!" Bella cried, her limbs tensing, clinging to me as though I might let her fall. "Oh, geezus…Edward…." her words dissolved into something like a sob as her softness melted around my hardness in utter and complete unity.

I grunted as my hands grasped her cheeks and lifted her up, then let her body settle around me again, impaled on my cock, as we both moaned loudly.

"You feel so fucking good," I rasped, my lips to her ear as she clung to me. "I can't believe how you feel. God help me, I'll never get enough of you. Never."

I began thrusting upward rhythmically, my hands pushing her groin against me in time, bouncing her up and down forcefully on my cock. She began moving with me, riding me, her clutching hands moving from my shoulders to my neck to my scalp and back again. Her face was a blur of beautiful white skin, dark lips and even darker eyes as she rocked up and down, moaning softly. I had never seen anything so achingly beautiful in my life.

I wanted to tell her I loved her. I was shouting it inside. But the love was so tangled up in animal lust that I was overwhelmed once more. Nothing came out but unintelligible sex sounds, and I lost myself in our chorus of moans and sighs over the cadence of skin slapping against skin.

I couldn't take much more. I knew I was going to lose it any minute and explode inside her. The sensations were too intense, too much to contain.

I withdrew from Bella and sat her back down on the wall, my arms shaking slightly after their exertion, even though she weighed no more than a sack of feathers. I slid my hands up her bare back under the fabric of her dress, holding her close. I covered her satin skin with kisses, so hungry for her mouth instead that I wanted to scream.

"Come for me," I begged her in between kisses, moving one hand to her front, between her legs. I found the swollen button of her clitoris and rubbed it rapidly until a groan of pleasure rumbled in her throat.

"I won't come unless you're inside me," she countered, her hands stroking my body up and down, roaming everywhere, giving me a taste of my own medicine and making me crazy. She ended her exploration at my throbbing erection, working it as frantically as I did her clit, and I knew I was going to blow if she didn't stop.

I pulled her hand away and guided my member where it wanted to go. She took me in easily now, and it felt like I had already made my mark inside her, molding her tight walls exactly to my girth and length. This was where I belonged. I would never tire of making love to this girl, or fucking her senseless.

I did both now, still in awe that both desires could so seamlessly bleed into one. I pounded her fast and hard, and the sounds she made told me she loved it. God, how did I get so lucky? The friction between us reached a fever pitch, and I could feel her tightening around me, tensing, getting ready. Her chest was pink with arousal and exertion, and she leaned back on one hand for leverage, the other clutching my shoulder.

My fingers found her clit again, adding to fuel to the fire, and I knew she was close. Close enough for me to let go and wait for her to follow.

I felt the first spasm of my ejaculation deep in my groin, forceful and ecstatic, surging through my tight scrotum and ripping through my cock like a firecracker until I exploded into Bella, helplessly calling her name. I thought that nothing could compare to the feeling of unloading deep into her womb, over and over, each contraction of my muscles a whip-crack of ecstasy that shot from me to her.

I was wrong.

Her body answered the call with a force that made me cry out like a baby. Her hips bucked upward as the orgasm shook her, and the tiny line formed between her eyebrows again, but this time it was a welcome mark of ecstasy. Her body trembled violently around me, its powerful muscles ruthlessly milking the juice out of me until I swore again, a string of mindless profanities for which I apologized immediately afterward.

"Don't apologize!" she exclaimed breathlessly, panting, as the quaking of our bodies gradually began to subside. Her fingers combed roughly through my hair and massaged my scalp as she looked at me with mild exasperation.

"I like it when you swear. I want you let go with me," she murmured, her lips tantalizingly close to mine. "I've been waiting for it since the day we met. I could see it inside you, like an animal you thought you had tamed into submission. I've wanted to let you out of your cage for so long, Edward. I was so afraid I'd never find the key."

I pressed my forehead against hers, eyes closed, and concentrated on the slowing of her breath and mine. I needed a moment to gather my wits, even though Bella seemed to take great pleasure in rendering me witless.

"You're the only one who has the key," I admitted, finally acknowledging to myself that this was bigger than I was. "You unlocked the door so quickly, I didn't realize it was open. I think I forgot I was even in a cage. I forgot how to come out."

Her liquid eyes were rich and warm with understanding as I bobbed contentedly in their depths.

"I'm glad you came with me," she said, smirking at her double-entendre.

"I hope so," I replied, matching her grin. "I plan to come with you quite often from now on."

She sighed contentedly, and I bent my head to nuzzle her neck as I savored the last few tremors twitching my thoroughly spent cock. I didn't want to withdraw it from its cozy nest, nor disentangle the rest of me from her limbs.

Bella seemed to read my mind. "I don't want to go back," she said. I wasn't sure if she was talking about the party, or about the slightly rocky road we'd taken to find each other.

"I don't either. Let's just stay here until dawn and let everyone wonder what happened to us," I suggested.

"I could do it. I'm sure of it," she said. But when our eyes met again, reality and common sense had seeped back in around the edges.

"It's only a couple of hours," I sighed, reluctantly drawing the sides of her dress around her. "We can go be adults for just a little while, right?"

She nodded, her face a bit petulant. "Then what?"

"Then you're coming home with me."

Her adorable pout lifted. "I am?"

"Yes. I don't care how. I don't care if MonkeyBoy has to take you home first. I'm coming to get you."

"What about Jessica?"

"Jessica would be more than happy to take Jacob off your hands," I informed Bella.

"Ah. I kind of thought so. I hope Jake can get on board with that," she smiled, reaching for the edges of my not-so-crisp white shirt. She began buttoning it up lethargically, looking disappointed to see my skin disappear beneath the fabric. I couldn't wait until she'd have the chance to open those buttons again.

I found the long black ties of Bella's dress and pulled them together, making a neat bow on one side. I would no longer be able to put off the inevitable anymore - I was going to have to remove my penis from her vagina. Our struggle to dress each other while still joined together was bordering on comical at this point.

"I hate this part," I sighed as I did the deed, slowly pulling out of her. The cool air hit the cream coating me and my dick shrank pitifully at the unwelcome sensation. I leaned in and kissed Bella as close to her mouth as I could, a long, sweet kiss that I hoped told her how much our closeness meant to me. Her hands found my face, gently stroking, returning the sentiment.

I sighed again as I reached down and pulled up my trousers. I tucked the shirt in and zipped my fly while Bella found the belt of her dress and tied it securely, making sure the fabric wrapped as demurely over her body as possible. I went to the bench and retrieved my jacket, shaking it clean before donning it again. When I returned to Bella, I reached out and combed my fingers through the tangles of her hair, trying to smooth and tame them into a semblance of the perfect, glossy curtain that adorned her head when she had arrived earlier.

"It's hopeless, isn't it," she lamented, trying to help me.

"It's not so bad," I fibbed, increasing my efforts to tame her locks. "I wish I felt worse about doing this to your hair, but the truth is, I love it. I love how you look with bed-head. I especially love it when it's my fault."

"If you're trying to make me actually want to go back to the party right now, you are failing miserably." She began working at the knot of my tie, pushing it up, straightening it. I smoothed her hair some more, and satisfied with its improvement, I dropped my hands and offered her one.

"Shall we?" I suggested.

She stared at me as if I were obtuse. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I looked at her blankly. "What?"

"My underwear," she reminded me. She reached her hands into my pockets, fishing the tiny garment out.

"Give me that," I demanded softly, stealing the strip of lace and satin from her fingers. I fingered it for a moment, fighting the urge to lift it to my face and inhale her intoxicating scent.

"This hardly constitutes what I would call 'underwear,'" I continued as I waved it in her face. "It barely qualifies as a pair of panties. I really wanted to tear this useless scrap of material right off of your body instead of sparing it."

Her eyes were round with feigned shock. "So what changed your mind?"

"Well, I could lie and say that it seemed like a shame to destroy such a pretty little piece of lace," I answered coyly. "But the truth is, you'll need these, although they might be a little flimsy for the job."

She looked up at me in exasperation. "The job…?" she prompted, annoyed at my obvious enjoyment.

I ignored her question and knelt down, holding the panties open at her feet. She obligingly put one sparkling shoe in, then the other, and waited while I drew the fabric up and under her dress. I arranged the g-string over her hips and gently pressed the lace snugly between her thighs as I leaned in and whispered the answer.

"You'll need something to catch my cum when it seeps out of you for the next hour or so," I intoned wickedly.

She let out a quick breath, almost a laugh, as her eyes narrowed up at me and her eyebrow raised. "I'd argue with you, but…." She shook her head and stopped, because she knew I spoke the truth.

There was no point in trying to hide my self-satisfied smirk as I rubbed her gently through the lace, drawing some fluid from her into the fabric.

"I can't deny it. I'm really going to enjoy imagining my cum dripping out of you every time you stand up, or walk, or shift in your chair…." I stroked her pussy some more, soaking the lace clean through. "You have to promise to tell me how it feels later."

"You are one sick bastard," she informed me, sounding not the slightest bit offended.

"You're the one who wanted to let me out of my cage," I reminded her, cocking a smug eyebrow at her.

She tried to smother her smile, but failed. "Sick," she accused again under her breath.

"You like it," I asserted, giving her one last stroke between her thighs before removing my hand. I then offered it to her. "Come on, let's go."

She took my hand, shaking her head at me like a schoolmarm chastising a naughty boy. Fingers entwined and sticky with the evidence of our lovemaking, we headed back down the garden path and around the first bend, back toward the noise and light of the ball.

Suddenly a hulking, slightly ominous figure loomed directly ahead, silhouetted in the light from the far-off torches. His face was obscured in the dusk as he blocked our path, hands planted commandingly on his hips. His voice was brusque and threatening as it boomed down the hedgerows toward us.

"You are in so much fucking trouble."

* * *

_*"The Nearness Of You," Writer(s): Ned Washington, Hoagy Carmichael_

_[By the way, my favorite arrangement of this song is by the inimitable Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. And strangely, I love Sheena Easton's interpretation, too. The mood of her version is probably more appropriate for my Edward and Bella. Check 'em out on you tube.]_


	23. Transformation, part 3

**As always, much gratitude goes to everyone who has read, reviewed, or otherwise supported me; and to Stephenie Meyer for creating the Twi-world we know and love.**

**And now on with the ball...**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook **_

**Sunday, August 22 (cont'd.) **

My hand tightened protectively around Bella's for a moment until I recognized the voice behind the accusation.

"Look, Emmett, I've been meaning to talk to you," I began, taking a few more steps toward my brother's judgmental glare. Bella followed, her fingers still clutching mine tightly.

"I'm not treating Bella anymore," I continued, looking Emmett square in the face. "I referred her to Katrina so there's no conflict of interest if I see Bella privately now."

Emmett's face remained impassive save for a raised brow over slightly skeptical eyes.

"Edward would never do anything to put your practice in jeopardy," Bella piped up in my defense. "He was nothing but professional every time I was in the office."

Emmett snorted and shook his head at us like we we'd missed the point entirely.

"Honestly, it's none of my business what you two do in private, as long as that's where it stays. But you've been gone long enough that Dad's on the warpath now, wondering why you aren't around to support Mom on her big night."

My fingers worried my hair as I let out a guilty sigh. "I did my Sing For Your Supper bit already. What else am I supposed to be doing that I wasn't aware of?"

"Well, you missed the auction entirely, for one thing."

"You always host that bit," I argued.

"I know, and I did it with style and grace, as always," Emmett said with a self-satisfied grin. "But that's when Mom noticed that her favorite child was MIA, and when Mom's worried, Dad is worried. To say the least."

"I'm not her favorite," I protested.

"You keep telling yourself that, Golden Boy," Emmett said. "In the meantime, you'd better get your ass back to the festivities before Dad carves it up and serves it to the guests on a platter."

"Fine. We're coming," I told him. He turned to lead the way and I gave Bella a smirk over the double-entendre. I was still trying to recover from the intensity of our "coming" just a few moments ago. I could barely think after our seismic encounter, let alone go face the ire of my father right now.

"Your dad seems so nice," Bella commented as we followed my elder sibling back to the party. "I can't even imagine him truly angry about anything."

"You're right. He rarely gets angry. But he gets _disappointed_ quite often. He's excellent at laying on the guilt with a trowel, nice and thick."

"Ah," Bella sympathized. "That 'disappointed in you' line - the ultimate chastisement. A parental standard since the beginning of time."

"Or the advent of passive-aggressive behavior." Of that, Carlisle Cullen was a master. He would deny it, of course. He always masks his disapproval under an impressive veneer of concern. But the day I dropped out of U-Dub, that mask finally cracked. He told me I was throwing my life away, right along with yours, Tanya.

I've never forgotten it. I'm still trying to forgive it.

"How are things going with Rosalie?" Bella called up to the hulking figure that stalked purposefully ahead.

Emmett slowed his pace until we caught up to him. "Things could not be better between me and Rosalie, actually," he said, his face practically beaming. I wondered if that's how I would look if someone asked me about Bella.

"I'm glad to hear it," she smiled. "She'd probably kill me for telling you, but I know she likes you, a lot. I've never seen her like this before. She's always humming to herself, with this smug little grin on her face. Like she's got a really juicy secret."

Emmett let out a hearty laugh. "Well, if she does, I wish she'd let me in on it. She likes me to play the guessing game, that's for sure."

"Well, no matter what she says, she can't hide the fact that she's just…happy. Really happy," Bella told him. But her eyes were on me as the Mona Lisa smile staked its claim over her face. I gave her hand a squeeze as I smiled down at her. I knew I could get through whatever else the evening brought as long as she was there at the end of it.

I let go of her hand as we approached the light and noise of the gala, but I couldn't let go of her. I put my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She did the same, leaning into me and resting her hand on my chest. She looked up at me anxiously.

"Did we really miss an entire auction?" she whispered worriedly as Emmett spied Rosalie and left us to join her. "What kind of auction?"

"It's not a big deal," I tried to assure her. "We usually auction off a few antiques and some fine art. It doesn't last that long."

Bella's eyes only grew rounder. "How long were we gone?"

I shrugged and shook my wrist free of the shirt and coat sleeves to check my watch. "Less than an hour."

"An _hour_?" Bella looked mortified.

"Really only forty-five minutes. Time flies when you're having fun," I grinned down at her. She did not look amused.

"Bella, honestly, don't worry about it. For all anyone knows, we've been dancing this whole time. Look how many people are out there now." I gestured to the jam-packed terrace and the lawn, where the tables had been pulled back to allow more room for people to dance and mingle. I thought I heard a familiar jangle of guitar riffing as we pushed our way into the crowd. Sure enough, Jasper had joined the orchestra and turned them into a jazz ensemble as he improvised a sweet solo. I hoped that the Java Noise execs were taking note. Alice certainly was, standing front row and center at the edge of the stage, cheering him on.

I maneuvered Bella into the throng and up to the front, next to my sister. Alice glanced over at us, her eyes growing large before narrowing up at me.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed over the volume of the music. "And you had the nerve to get on my case earlier!"

"What?" I demanded in mock innocence, while Alice rolled her eyes. I smoothed my hair self-consciously and gave Bella a once-over for signs of our recent tryst. Her cheeks were still flushed and her hair was not quite as polished as it had been earlier, but her usually even-toned ivory skin was mottled in spots with a faint pink rash, probably from my beard stubble. I surreptitiously ran my hand over her brown locks, arranging them over her neck and chest to hide some of the evidence. Alice only grinned at us knowingly, probably thrilled at the way this evening was turning out. I was feeling pretty happy about it myself, I had to admit.

I looked around for Mom and Dad, anxious to get out of the doghouse with them as quickly as possible. I didn't see them, but I did notice that Jacob Black was trying his hand at the timpani drums toward the back of the orchestra. He looked like he was having a good time, and Jessica was nearby, hooting and hollering in encouragement. I was happy to finally spot the Java Noise people, too, getting an earful of Jasper's abilities. Between the fund-raising for the AHA, the advantageous networking going on, and the clandestine hook-ups for the Cullen clan, this had shaped up to be a pretty spectacular evening on all fronts.

I stood behind Bella and put my other arm around her, giving her a squeeze and holding her close. She leaned her head back on my chest and glanced up at me, her face all smiles. No one was paying us any mind, but it still felt good to show my affection for her in public instead of hiding it. I didn't care if Jacob got an eyeful, either. Surely he had to have figured out what was going on by now, if Jessica hadn't filled him in already.

The song came to a close; everyone cheered and tossed money into the hat at Jasper's feet. I anteed up as well, throwing some cash into the kitty.

"That's it, my friends - throw money! Just throw money and I'll play all night," Jazz laughed. "You want to join me?" he added, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I think I'll pass. You're doing just fine without me." Jasper's skills on guitar were far superior to mine, and the only performing I planned to do was to play Bella's song for her in private at the loft later on.

As the makeshift jazz ensemble continued, I scanned the crowd for Dad again. If he had sent Emmett out looking for me, it was possible he'd taken off to do the same. The last thing I needed was to have him ream me later on for sending a search party out on my behalf.

"I need to find my dad," I whispered down into Bella's ear, reluctantly letting go of her.

"I'll come with you," she offered, grabbing my hand. "Maybe he won't get upset with you if I'm there."

"Maybe," I shrugged. But I was grateful to have her with me as I made my way through the crowd, scanning in all directions for either of my parents. I finally found them on the edge of the terrace, swaying slowly to the laid-back jazz beat that wafted over the lawn. Bella and I approached them together, a united front. I was unaccustomed to the feeling, but I liked it. I knew I could get used to it.

Mom was the first to see us. "Edward!" she exclaimed with a relieved smile. "See? I told you they hadn't strayed too far."

Dad turned and gave us a deceptively serene look. "You gave us a scare, there, son," he said with a humorless smile. "It's not like you to disappear on your mother's big night, when she needs you the most."

"Oh, Carlisle. The ball is pretty much running itself at this point," Mom downplayed.

"I'm sorry. It was all my fault," Bella spoke up, surprising the hell out of me. "I wanted to talk to Edward about something in private. I should have waited until another time." Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, and my hand tightened reassuringly around hers.

I shook my head in denial at her words. "It's not Bella's doing. We needed to work some things out, and I'm the one who suggested a walk in the garden so we could talk. I'm sorry we were gone so long. I didn't mean to worry you," I added to Mom at the end.

"Honey, it's fine," Mom insisted. "Your father is a worrywart, you know that."

"I just want to make sure you have your priorities straight, Edward. That's all," Dad said quietly. His calm cut more deeply than any raised voice could.

I tried to quell the irritation in my voice as I replied. "I'm well aware that this fund raiser is a priority, Dad. I'm sorry I missed the auction, but I did my part earlier. I don't think anyone missed me."

"Your mother missed you," Dad interjected, a little more sharply this time.

"Carlisle," Mom said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry that I disappointed you yet again," I repeated, beginning to seethe inwardly. I tried not to let it show, but I knew my tone gave me away. "But Bella is a major priority for me now, so you might as well get used to it."

"Don't talk to your mother that way," Dad ordered, his anger beginning to match mine.

"What way?" I asked, exasperated. "I'm just telling it like it is. You know damned well I mean no disrespect - at least not to her."

Dad flinched as if I had punched him. In effect, I had. I think I must have looked as shocked as he did by my words.

"Edward, that's enough." The warning tone in Mom's voice was one I took seriously.

My breathing slowed and I swallowed the last of my bile. "I'm sorry, Dad; Mom. It won't happen again." I turned and led Bella away, so grateful for her hand in mine that I wanted to weep. I was angry enough that the tears were already right under the surface, waiting for my permission to fall. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

I found a small, abandoned table in a dark corner of the lawn, near the garden, and sat down. Bella took the chair across from me and grasped my other hand in hers.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," I said at last, embarrassed that I had let my dad push my buttons like that in front of her.

"I'm not," she countered. I looked up at her in surprise. "I want to know what's going on with you, Edward. I want to be able to help you, and be here for you. I can't do that if you don't let me in."

I shook my head in disbelief at my good fortune, that this beautiful girl actually wanted to deal with my baggage. I rested my elbows on my knees, bringing Bella's hands to my face and pressing them against my cheeks. Her skin felt cool and calming. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of it.

"Edward," she said softly at last. "Why are you so angry with your father?"

I raised my head to look at her, only mildly surprised that she had figured out my exchange with Dad was only the tip of the iceberg. I sighed heavily as I contemplated telling her the truth. I knew it would ruin the best night of my life if I did.

"He… doesn't agree with my career choice," I made my careful admission.

She studied me a moment. "He wanted you to be a doctor."

I sighed once more. "Emmett and Alice told you I had planned to go to med school, right?"

She nodded. "But they didn't tell me what changed your plans."

I could feel the panic begin to percolate in my gut. I couldn't let it bubble to the surface. Not yet. Not tonight.

"I know I owe you an explanation," I began.

"No, you don't. You don't owe me anything," Bella contradicted me. "But you can trust me with anything. I wish you would."

"I do trust you," I told her, and I meant it. I know I'll get the courage to tell her everything, when the time is right. But last night was not that time.

"I'm asking you to be patient with me," I continued. "This has been a really special night so far, and I want it to stay that way. I want the majority of our memories of tonight to be good ones. Great ones," I added with a knowing smile, which she returned.

"I won't argue with that," she said, giving my hands a squeeze. I hoped she could tell by my expression how grateful I was for her understanding.

"Well, don't you two look cozy," came a sarcastic comment over my shoulder. I already knew who I'd see standing behind me when I turned to look - Bella's date for the evening. So much for having a trouble-free remainder of the night.

"Jake," Bella said weakly, her hands going limp in mine. She didn't take them away, though. "You sounded great up there with that orchestra. Are you having a good time?"

Jacob Black planted himself directly opposite us, hands squarely on his hips. "I'm having a great time, considering that my date disappeared with another guy," he said dryly, his eyes angry and accusing.

She withdrew her hands then. "I'm sorry," she said, getting up from her chair to face him. "I tried to tell you that coming here tonight wasn't like a real date. I told you how I felt about mixing work with my personal life."

His face registered disbelief before he let out an incredulous laugh. "Apparently Cullen here doesn't have a problem with that," he snarled, giving me a disparaging glance. I shot out of my chair, fists beginning to form instinctually at his words. "No wonder you left out the part about hooking up with your masseur when you were explaining how that 'business and pleasure' thing works."

"Watch yourself," I hissed at him, fighting the urge to add "MonkeyBoy" at the end. He glared up at me, his stance ready for a fight.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Edward hasn't been my therapist for awhile now," Bella retorted. "He doesn't have anything to do with what goes on between you and me."

"Doesn't he? We'd probably be dating for real right now if he hadn't entered the picture," Jacob fumed.

"Well, he did. And I'm not going to say I'm sorry about that, because I'm not," Bella spat defiantly. I felt a prehistoric sort of thrill permeate my body at her words.

"But I will say that I'm sorry if I led you on," she added in a more conciliatory tone. "That wasn't my intention."

"What is it they say about the road to hell, Bella?" Jacob taunted.

"You say one more disrespectful thing to her and it will be your last," I warned him, my voice quivering with anger. I wasn't above taking out some long-standing frustrations with my father on the convenient target in front of me.

Jacob's tightening fists flexed the gym muscles hiding under his cheap suit. "You're going to stop me?" he snorted derisively, even though I towered over him. "You and what army?"

"This army," boomed a baritone from behind me. I'd recognize that cavalry call anywhere. I glanced over my shoulder to see Emmett at the ready, giving Jacob a bemused, challenging look.

"Come on, you guys, stop it," Bella pleaded, her eyes beseeching as they traveled back and forth between us. "This is not the time or place for this."

"I agree," chimed another feminine yet forceful voice. I looked over to see Rosalie joining Emmett, taking one of his clenched hands in hers. I soon felt Bella do the same. I looked down at her tiny fingers pulling gently at mine, and my anger dissipated. I had no reason to attack Jacob Black. I had already won.

His face was still the picture of fury and humiliation when Jessica Stanley trotted up to our little group, another mojito in one hand and a beer in the other. She stared at as all for a moment, then rolled her eyes as if we were the most ridiculous bunch of morons she'd ever seen.

"Jesus H. Christ! I leave for two minutes to get drinks, and all the animals were let loose from their cages," she exclaimed. "What the heck is wrong with you people? This is a party! Eat, drink and be merry. Here, this should help," she suggested, handing the beer to Jacob. He begrudgingly took it and thanked her.

"That's better," Jessica smiled, taking a sip of her mint drink. Rosalie let out a bawdy laugh.

"I like this girl," she grinned. "I think I'll have another drink myself. Emmett?" she coaxed, linking her arm through his.

"Good idea," he agreed with a smile, leading her away from the fray.

Bella looked up at me, imploring. "Give me a minute with Jake, okay?"

I looked at her warily, then at Jacob and Jessica. Jessica shrugged one shoulder and took a couple of steps toward me.

"Let's go get you something to drink, Edward," she suggested. "We'll be right back," she told Jacob and Bella over her shoulder.

I begrudgingly followed her, looking back repeatedly to make sure that little shit wasn't so much as raising his voice at her.

"You need to let them clear the air," Jessica told me as we approached the bar. "They go way back together, and they have to work together now. It's better for them to hash this out than to let it end with hurt feelings."

"I think it's going to end with hurt feelings no matter what," I said before ordering another gin and tonic. I also ordered a glass of their best cabernet for Bella. "He doesn't have a chance with her." I tried not to sound to smug.

"So things went well in the garden, huh?" she grinned, raising her glass in a toast. "I saw you sneak off with her. I don't want to know a single thing about what happened. But let me just say, congratulations."

"Thanks," I replied, unable to keep the smile off of my face. "And thank you for the cutting-in suggestion. It worked out incredibly well for me. I just wish it had for you, too."

"Oh, it was fine. Jake and I have been having a good time. He won't be hung up on Bella forever," she said with confidence. "The quicker they work it out, the better, for both of us."

I scrutinized her deceptively vacant face. "You are surprisingly wise, Jessica Stanley. My brother was lucky to hire you. And I'm lucky to have you here with me tonight."

"Aw, that's so sweet of you to say," she smiled. "So does this mean I get a raise?"

That drew a much-needed laugh from my lungs. "I'll see what I can do."

"Awesome," she grinned. She glanced across the terrace at the objects of our affection. "Okay, time's up for that twosome. I say we go stake our claims."

"Yet another excellent suggestion, Ms. Stanley."

"Lead the way, Mr. Cullen."

Bella and Jacob were seated and talking quietly when we returned. The minute Jacob saw me coming, he got up from his chair and caught Jessica's eye as we approached. He ignored me completely as he offered his arm to her, asking if she wanted to dance. I wasn't sorry to see them go, and happily took his seat.

"Are you okay?" I asked Bella, handing her the glass of wine.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, taking a generous sip. I wanted to lick the heavy liquid from her lips.

"Did he say anything at all hurtful? Because if he was rude to you, I'll make sure he can't even open his mouth in the morning."

Bella laughed and shook her head at me. "Boys and their testosterone," she admonished. "Don't worry, it's fine. I explained to him that I wasn't sure things were going to work out between us, and that's why I never told him about you."

"You didn't owe him any explanations," I interjected.

"I know. But I figured honesty was the best policy. It usually is. I never came out and told him I was interested in someone else, and I should have. I didn't think I was stringing him along, but without anyone else in the picture, he was still hopeful. Now he's… realistic."

I reached out and ran my finger along the edge of her delicate jaw. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"Well, as amazing as you are, then if you say it, it must be true."

I leaned in and tenderly pressed my lips to hers. "I can't wait to kiss this lipstick right off of your face," I murmured.

"What are you waiting for?" she teased.

"Mmm… I've waited this long. I can wait a little longer. I have special plans for that lipstick later on. In private."

Her eyes widened with curiosity and, it seemed, a measure of lust. "When do we leave?"

I groaned softly as I let my hungry lips travel the side of her face to her ear. "Not soon enough. I think we'll have to hang around until the party dies down a little, or I'll have to deal with more crap from my parents."

She let out a small laugh. "I like your parents. They obviously love you and want the best for you, even if they don't always show their concern in a way that sits well with you."

I regarded her soberly. "I seem to have a lot of very smart women in my life to point out when I'm being an idiot. I think that makes me a very lucky guy."

"I think you're right," she grinned in agreement.

"Let's go dance," I suggested, standing up and tugging at her hand.

"I didn't know you liked dancing that much," she commented, rising and letting me guide her to the gaggle of couples swaying across the flagstones.

"I don't. I just want an excuse to hold you close to me," I whispered as my arm pulled her body to mine.

"I'll let you in on a secret: you don't need an excuse."

We smiled stupidly at one another for a moment, lost in our little bubble of attraction.

"I want to know another secret instead," I murmured.

"What's that?" she asked, tilting her head back to gaze up at me.

"How are your panties holding up?" My grin was wicked and expectant.

One eyebrow shot up, but she didn't miss a beat. "My panties are very damp. Soaking wet, you could say."

"Hmmm. I wonder what could be causing that."

"I don't know," she replied in a low whisper. I bent my ear closer to her lips. "There seems to be this thick, creamy substance between my legs. Just when I think it's done, I feel more of it oozing out… it tickles. It just makes me even wetter."

"Fucking hell, Bella," I groaned, pressing the small of her back tighter to me. My growing erection struggled against my pants and pushed into her groin. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

A naughty-sounding giggle met my ears. "It's hard to miss right now."

I let out a small laugh myself. "You definitely won't miss it later. I hope you get used to dripping with my cum, because I intend to fill you up on a regular basis."

"You are shockingly vulgar, Mr. Cullen," Bella informed me in a voice that sounded far more turned on than shocked. "You'll be lucky if I ever let you near me with that massive dick of yours again."

"'Massive?'" I repeated, wondering if that were true, or if Bella was just pumping up my ego with what every guy wants to hear. "Judging by the sounds you were making earlier, you were more than happy to accommodate my massive dick. Be nice to me or I'll drag you back to the garden and bend you over the retaining wall."

"Promises, promises," she taunted me with a lusty gleam in her eye.

"Oh, that's it. Now you're getting a spanking before I take you from behind." My erection pressed desperately against her.

"I look forward to it," she said, her voice low and enticing.

"Fuck me," I murmured with a sigh as I lost myself in her eyes.

"I'd rather you fuck me," she replied, pressing her body into mine. I moaned as I moved in time with her to the music.

"I intend to. Repeatedly. Endlessly. You won't be able to walk by Monday. And that is a promise," I added gruffly, breathing gin and desire all over her face.

She said nothing, just stared up at me from under heavy lids that I was sure matched my own. Her hand gripped mine tightly as we danced; the other wandered up from my shoulder to stroke my cheek, my jaw, my neck. I wanted her so badly I couldn't even see straight. I knew there was no way I'd last another hour at this fund raiser, no matter what reproach I'd face later from my family.

The song ended, and so did my patience.

"To hell with this. Let's get out of here," I decided. Bella nodded in agreement.

I made an effort to find everyone in my family, including my parents, to inform them of our departure. I ignored Dad's judgmental look and took comfort in Mom's benevolent one instead. The rest of our friends and family were too busy having their own fun to worry about ours.

I had managed to put my ardor on hold as I made the necessary pleasantries, but it simmered on the backburner of my mind and my body, ready to be brought to a boil the minute the opportunity presented itself. I wondered if I could keep it in check long enough to give Bella her final present of apology. Even though she insisted that she didn't want or need them, I still felt the need to give them. I wanted to sing her the song I'd written. I needed to make her understand what she meant to me, if she didn't already.

We were quiet on the drive back to my place. We talked briefly about the party, insignificant observations about what we'd seen and heard. Gravity hung thick in the air between us, waiting to be addressed and dealt with later. We were about to embark on something serious, something sacred. I no longer balked at the prospect. I welcomed it with open arms as I never had before. I couldn't wait to begin it.

Our eyes were locked in promise as the service elevator groaned and wheezed its way to the third floor of the loft. I stared at her lips, and she parted them, inviting me to make good on my earlier threats. But I only took her hand in mine to guide her out of the lift and into my apartment, where the song waited.

Lucky bade us noisy welcome as we opened the door, and I quickly dispatched the cat out the window in the hallway. Bella was the only audience I wanted now.

I led her through the living area and past my makeshift bedroom, turning on a few torchieres as I went. When I reached the piano, I stopped and let go of her hand. My eyes wandered between the keyboards and my guitar cases, deliberating how to proceed.

"The song I wrote for you and played earlier…?" I began awkwardly, looking to her for reassurance. She nodded, her eyes wide and expectant. "Well, that wasn't the whole song. It has lyrics."

She bit her lip nervously and waited. I could feel her anticipation, see it on her face.

"I didn't want to sing them for everyone," I explained. "They're only for you. I want only you to hear them."

She nodded mutely. I felt the usual nervousness flutter in my stomach as I again regarded the piano. I knew she loved it, but I had already played that version. I felt myself drawn to my favorite new guitar instead, a Martin D Mahogany acoustic with a sound so rich and buttery that I had to have it after I tried it out in the shop. The newfound feelings I had for Bella deserved to be accompanied by a new instrument.

I extricated the guitar from its case and motioned to the overstuffed couch, bidding Bella to take a seat. I tossed aside my cumbersome suit jacket, sat down next to her and checked the tuning on the guitar, making sure it was ready.

"I wrote this on the piano, but then I started playing it on the guitar. I like the rhythm version better, I think," I explained as I warmed up. "It's more hopeful. Optimistic," I added hesitantly. She smiled in encouragement.

I took a deep breath and began.

_Wasn't looking for you_

_You weren't part of the plan_

_Skimming over the surface_

_Only half a man_

_Never diving deep_

_Afraid of what I might see_

_A black, empty mirror_

_Where my soul used to be_

_You came and found me_

_Didn't know I was lost_

_Scared to give in to you_

_Afraid of the cost_

_What I didn't know_

_What I couldn't understand_

_Was that you already knew me_

_Like the back of your hand_

_(Chorus)_

_I can't find the will or desire to fight_

_On the eve of such a beautiful night_

_There's no darkness there in the depth of your eyes_

_Only the promise of such a sweet surprise_

_Bella Notte… my beautiful night_

_Bella Notte…my beautiful night_

_Loss has different weapons_

_But wounds you just the same_

_Makes you terrified to love_

_Makes you take the blame_

_But when I look into your eyes_

_Forgiveness is all I see_

_Makes me want to try again_

_To take back what was me_

_And I'm stronger than the fear this time_

_Braver than the guilt_

_I'm tearing down these useless walls_

_That self-protection built_

_I'm stepping out into the light_

_Though I can't see the way_

_I'm putting my blind faith in you_

_To get me through this day_

_(Chorus)_

_The brightest star couldn't shed such a light_

_As my Bella Notte, my beautiful night_

_There's no darkness there in the depth of your eyes_

_Only my beautiful blessing in disguise_

_My Bella Notte…my beautiful night_

_Bella Notte__…my beautiful night_

_Bella Luce__…beautiful light_

_Bella Notte__…beautiful night_

I pared down the impassioned chords to single notes at the end, slowing their pace to a stark and simple conclusion. I had only stolen glances at her while I played, too afraid that the song didn't affect her nearly as deeply as it did me. Music was my way of laying myself bare when I couldn't find any other way to do it. Naked and exposed, I let my eyes travel cautiously to hers, ready to cover myself if she didn't respond the way I hoped she would. I held my breath as I braced myself for her reaction.

Nothing could have prepared me for it.

Her face was wet with tears when I was finally able to absorb it. She trembled as she leaned toward me, whispering my name, pushing my guitar gently aside. Wanting to kiss her, I reached for her face; but it was furrowed in concentration as she pulled at my tie and fumbled with the buttons of my shirt. I was a little surprised, yet not unhappy, that her instant reaction to my heartfelt professions was to rip my clothes off.

But when she had the first few buttons of my shirt undone, I saw what she was really after. She pulled the fabric over my left pectoral and pressed her hand to my chest, finding the rapid pounding of the heart that beat only for her. When she located it, she gave me a long, meaningful look before pressing her blood-red lips to the skin covering my heart. My hands found her face, gently pressing her to me. I fought my own tears, overwhelmed at her gesture of love for me.

When she finally lifted her mouth, we both stared at he perfect red imprint of her lips over my heart. No plan I'd had for her cherry lipstick even came close to this. I wanted to tattoo the image into my flesh and keep it there forever, a symbol of our connection, of her ownership over me. I never thought I'd be so happy to be possessed.

"Bella," I whispered as my hands lost their way in her hair. My lips found hers and tasted her wine at last, savoring the flavor and the feel as I kissed away the barrier between her mouth and mine.

There was nothing between us now. Nothing at all.


	24. Convergence, part 1

**As always, thanks to you all for your wonderful feedback and support-it means the world to me. Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for letting me bastardize and re-shape her wonderful characters to suit my own purposes. And special thanks to "Kit" for pre-reading, encouraging, and talking me off the ledge when necessary. ;)**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 22**

Edward Cullen's bed is king-sized with a sturdy, squeak-free frame and wrought-iron headboard. Its firm, comfortable mattress is fitted with 400-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, feather pillows and a down comforter, all in varying shades of dusky blue that make his eyes look like the sea when he's lying in it.

I know this because I spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours there.

If I could, I would make that bed my permanent place of residence. I would have every meal delivered and conduct all business from my laptop while firmly ensconced in that king-sized lap of luxury. I would leave only for quick trips to the bathroom to take care of life's little necessities as they arose, or to enjoy long, languid showers and baths with Edward before we retired back to our four-cornered sanctuary. My perfect world would consist mainly of these three staples: Me, Edward, and Edward's Bed.

I never thought I would describe a bed that large as "cozy," but Edward made it so. Even in his sleep, he ignored its spaciousness in favor of curling himself around me and grasping me to him as if I were a body pillow. He sighed and snuffled on my shoulder; he snored softly into my hair. His arm took possession of my waist; then my hip; then my right breast. His legs were restless and unhappy unless they were tangled with mine. Wherever I moved in my percale cocoon, Edward unconsciously followed. Like a heat-seeking missile he honed in on my body and took it prisoner all night long… both sleeping and awake.

Sleep finally won last night for both of us, though I stubbornly fought it, waking often. At last I gave up and let my sleepless eyes rest upon Edward. I don't know how long I watched him doze this morning. I committed to memory the soft fringe of sable eyelashes shadowing his cheeks; the thick, gently furrowed brows; the translucent pink skin of his cheeks; the deeper hue of his slightly pouting lips; the prickly, dirty-blond beard stubble decorating his square jaw and settling in the faint cleft of his chin. He is a work of art that I will never stop admiring.

As I lay studying him, listening to the even rhythm of his breathing, I thought back to the times I'd made his lungs labor the night before. I loved the sound of his heavy breathing; loved the feel of it on my skin, warm and urgent, as our bodies collided and converged into one.

I loved _him_.

I knew it as I watched him sleeping. I knew it when he unconsciously smothered me all night long. I knew it when his father upset him and he asked for my patience. I knew it when he made love to me for the first time, so passionate and unrestrained in that outdoor garden. I knew it when he stunned me with the most gorgeous song I've ever heard, titled after my name. I knew it the minute I saw him in his impeccable suit, looking more handsome than the law allows. I knew it when he picked up his tiny cousin and whirled her around, handling her with such affectionate ease. The sight of him cradling a child unleashed some kind of primal mating call that resonated through my entire body. My mind silently formed the only words to describe what I was feeling:

_I love you._

I fought the words all night long, straining to keep them inside instead of blurting them out with every move he made. Every time he gave me that heavy-lidded look that he reserves for only me. Every time his foot found mine under the table. Every time he took my hand and held it captive in his. Every time he whispered naughty suggestions in my ear. Every time he kissed me, stroked me, held me, entered me and made me come so hard I sobbed in ecstasy, I wanted to make those cries form the words.

_I love you, Edward. I'm in love with you._

Surely he already knew. I was reasonably certain he felt the same way about me. As improbable as it seemed, how could I doubt it after the words he sang to me? Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine someone would write a song for me, let alone something so raw and heartfelt, so achingly beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. His heart poured from his lips, his soul flowed through his fingers. And all of it was for me. _Me. _I could scarcely believe that I had affected him so profoundly, the way he had me; but I couldn't argue with the irrefutable proof of that song.

How could I ever repay him for such a gift? I didn't know where to begin. All I knew was that I wanted to touch him as deeply as he had me. To give him something concrete, even when I had nothing concrete in hand.

I considered the way he had avoided kissing me all night, apparently hell-bent on preserving the glossy color I'd shellacked on my lips so that he could savor it later. It formed a sticky crimson bow in the middle of my face, decorating the only gift I could think to give him: me.

I fumbled with his clothes, vaguely wondering what he'd think of more forward behavior from me. He'd given in to me easily enough earlier. But would he give in to me laying claim over his heart? He had already stolen mine so completely that I felt entitled to his now.

I impatiently loosened his tie and pushed his shirt aside until I felt his hot skin under my fingertips. I moved them over his heart, searching for the thumping muscle beneath the flesh and bone. His heart quickened as I pressed my hand against him. It begged me to take ownership, to mark the territory as mine.

I moved my hand aside, allowing my lips to brand him with their stamp. His lungs swelled, pressing his skin to my mouth; his hands held the back of my head in place. He wanted my mark upon him. When his fingers finally eased their grip, I lifted my head and looked at my handiwork. He did the same. We stared at the lip print as if it were a permanent tattoo instead of washable department store lipstick. The symbol was worth far more than the pigment that created it.

He whispered my name, hoarsely, half-strangled with emotion; and then he kissed me. Over and over again his mouth covered mine, smearing what was left of the color, licking and sucking and biting it away until nothing was left but my bare skin against his.

"Edward," I panted when his lips relinquished mine for a moment. "That song…." I searched for words to explain what it meant to me, but none would come. None were adequate. That's what he had said earlier about how I looked that evening, and now I knew how he felt. I couldn't bring myself to utter the three words that would come close to encompassing my feelings. It seemed too soon; or maybe I was just too much of a coward to be the first to say them.

But then I remembered what Edward had said to me the last time we'd had a moment of closeness like this. I wondered if he had any recollection of it. I decided I would take the risk and find out.

I placed my hands on either side of his face, tracing the beautiful bones and hollows. I leaned in and put my lips to the soft down of his ear.

"Let me love you."

I pressed my mouth to the delicate architecture of his ear; the noisy breath he exhaled into my own ear was hot and penetrating. It shimmied up my spine like a mirage rising from sun-baked asphalt. My fingers moved to his hair then, clutching at the cool strands while his heat blazed and consumed me within.

My lips were unquenchable as they searched his face, his neck, his chest for some relief. My fingers stroked his warm skin, thrilling to the thorns of his whiskers and the feathers of his body hair. All were merely fuel to the fire that was building inside me. The more I touched and tasted him, the more I wanted. And the more I wanted for myself, the more I wanted for him. If I could make him feel even a fraction of what I was feeling, to be engulfed and consumed by me the way I was by him, then maybe the burning need would be slaked.

I very nearly ripped the buttons from his shirt as I undid them. He tried to help me undo his cuffs but my insistent fingers beat him to it. I pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms until it formed a starched white accordion around his waist. His freed limbs wasted no time in encircling me, groping and fondling and pushing my dress open. I pressed my naked breasts to his chest and devoured him in a thirsty kiss. His tongue was a maddening flame instead; his fingers hot pokers sliding under my skirt and over my thighs.

My hand followed the trail of hair that snaked down his belly to the molten source of his heat. He was hard under my hand, ready to be released from the cool fabric of his pants. My lips followed the path my hand had just blazed as the rest of me slowly slid to the floor, pushing his thighs apart so that I could take up residence there. My tongue lapped at the reddish-brown hair that surrounded his belly button. I tickled the tiny hole with my tongue as my fingers unfastened and unzipped his pants.

Before I pulled them down, I looked up into his eyes. They were dark emerald flames, alight with anticipation and desire. But then, as they met mine, they smoldered dully for a moment as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Bella," he whispered, his voice a parched husk. "You don't have to do this."

I stared at him blankly for a moment. I couldn't believe he had uttered such a thing.

"Do you remember all the amazing things you did to me two weeks ago tonight?" I asked him.

He nodded slightly, brows still knitted.

"Did you do those things because you had to, or because you wanted to?"

My favorite crooked grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Edward. I want to do this. I've been fantasizing about doing this for weeks." My eyes were adamant, eager, as they assured his. "I want to make you feel as incredible as you made me feel that night. Trust me when I tell you, I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."

He let out a small laugh that turned into something more like a groan when I yanked at the fine gabardine of his trousers and freed him at last. His cock sprang upward, pointing straight at my face. Lit by the soft golden glow of a nearby floor lamp, I was able to see Edward, Junior in its full glory.

I didn't touch him right away. I examined his erection with my eyes instead, my hands busy pulling the expensive fabric of his pants further down, exposing him completely. All seven, maybe eight inches of his cock twitched slightly in a silent plea for more than just my eyes upon its impressive length. Pink, lightly veined, and certainly thick enough to satisfy, it seemed fairly full of itself as it subtly throbbed, impatiently waiting. The tip glistened with pre-ejaculate, and I hadn't even touched him yet.

I wrapped my right hand around the base, then slowly squeezed and pushed my way upward to the top. The motion squeezed a soft moan out of Edward as well. My eyes affixed to his, I leaned in and touched my lips to the head. With my hand I guided him over my mouth, tracing the outline of my lips with the wet tip of his cock in a similar manner to how I had applied my lipstick at the beginning of the evening. His eyes burned with an intoxicating mixture of surprise and lust as he watched me coat my lips with his fluid. Any misgivings he may have had about my total desire for him seemed to disappear along with the salty pre-cum that I licked from my lips.

A taste wasn't nearly enough. My insatiable tongue circled the head along its corona before my mouth closed around him. His eyes shut and he moaned again, more loudly this time, as I took him in my mouth, slowly moving my lips down his shaft and back up again. When I reached the head, I gingerly rubbed my teeth against the sensitive flesh of his frenulum. I was met with a string of muttered obscenities as Edward's hands gripped the couch cushions and his head fell back.

I never dreamed that unbridled swearing could be such sweet music to my ears. Each curse was evidence of him giving in to the demands of his body and letting go of the doubts in his head. As he relinquished his power, I discovered new reserves of my own. Though I kneeled subserviently before him, I was the master now, taking control of his body and his passions as decisively as he had taken control of mine. I rewarded his surrender by relaxing my throat and taking as much of him into my mouth as I could.

Edward groaned and one hand found my face, holding my head gently in place for a moment, making saliva run thick and plentiful from the back of my mouth. When he released me, I used it to lubricate him as my hand returned to rapidly pump his shaft, making sure I stimulated the sensitive glans with every pass.

"Fuck, Bella," was all he could manage between raspy breaths. I returned my mouth to his member once more, working it in tandem with my hand, stroking and sucking until the vivid pink flesh began to swell and turn purplish with engorgement. I was relentless then, using every trick I could think of to make him pant and grunt with pleasure. I took his cock in my mouth from every angle, running it along the insides of my cheeks, letting it tickle the back of my throat. I slapped its rigid outline against my tongue repeatedly before swallowing him whole, nearly gagging and dousing him with my saliva again. I pumped him with one hand while the other massaged his perineum, stroking him from his scrotum to his anus. When he moaned in a tenor that told me he couldn't take much more, I took each testicle in my mouth, one at a time, and sucked on them until he made only incoherent sex sounds, his fingers twisting in my hair, hips involuntarily pumping in rhythm with my hands and mouth.

That's when I released him. I watched with satisfaction as his cock slammed against his belly, wet and pulsating, naked and needy. I remembered when he had done this to me at the onset of my orgasm, and I reveled in the desperate growl that rattled his chest as I now returned the favor. I smiled sweetly up at his half-crazed expression, which only frustrated him further.

I gave his pants another pull; his body responded instantly, hips rising to let me pull the garment down his thighs. I ran my hands slowly, luxuriously through the soft, sparse fur of his legs, up toward his throbbing dick. I kissed and nipped at the tender skin of his inner thighs, left and then right, letting my hair swing forward and tickle the fully aroused flesh between them as my lips moved closer and closer to where he wanted them.

"Bella, please," he croaked. His hands stroked my hair, wheedling, cajoling.

"Please what?" I asked innocently. I traced the "V" of his hips with my fingers as I stared up at him, wide-eyed.

He let out a mirthless laugh as his eyes flashed, dark and desperate. "Make me come."

The words hovered somewhere between an order and a plea. He was counting on me to satisfy him, even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. I had no intention of letting him down.

Eventually.

"How would you like me to make you come?" I asked coyly as I smoothed my hands across his abdomen, massaging the taut muscles there. I came within millimeters of his eager cock, but made sure not to touch it.

He laughed again, this one sounding slightly unhinged. "You don't need me to tell you how to do that."

"I don't know," I replied in an exaggeratedly dubious tone. "I'm not sure what you like best. My tongue…?" I suggested as I pressed the wet appendage against his scrotum, then raked it up the seam on the underside of his dick until it lapped at the sensitive tip.

"…or my hands?" I wrapped my fingers around him, gently twisting and rubbing his shaft, then stroking and pulling at his balls. His stared at me with glazed eyes, hypnotized by my demonstration of his pleasurable options.

"I think maybe you prefer my whole mouth," I concluded, my lips hovering near the dark, swollen head that peered out of my left fist. I blew on it lightly and Edward emitted a broken moan.

"Do you want to come in my mouth, Edward?" My voice was a feather, its question floating in the air between us. His ragged breath blew the answer back at me.

"Yes."

_Yes. _Why did it seem like such a concession, such surrender on his part, when I was the one opening up and taking him inside me? But I couldn't deny the power I felt as I moved my lips up and down the most sensitive, vulnerable part of him, taking care not to graze him with my teeth, making sure that he felt nothing but ecstasy as slid him in and out of my mouth with increasing speed.

"You feel so fucking amazing," he panted, his voice brittle with tension. His fingers worked their way through my hair to massage my scalp as he gently guided me. His breathing quickened and I felt his entire body grow as rigid as his cock. The latter swelled even further and filled my mouth completely; it was all I could do to keep up the rhythm without choking. He was thrusting gently then, his body unable to stop the movement as it built to its impending climax. I grasped his hips and let them work with my mouth as I took him in, faster and deeper, and waited for his release.

He came with a wordless, shuddering gasp, incapable of even cursing now. I moaned with satisfaction as his cock unloaded its hot, bitter liquid into the back of my throat. I swallowed quickly and waited for more, eagerly drinking down each emission that erupted from him. It tasted as unpleasant as I remembered, and I didn't care. I loved the flavor, the smell, the sound, the feel of him losing himself in me; letting himself revel in total abandon, filling me with his cum as he had promised to do regularly from now on. I would take it any way he wanted to give it to me. I had crossed a line somewhere, moving into territory where there were no more barriers or taboos or shame. There was only Edward's humanity and mine. Every component of it, from the emotional to the spiritual to the physical, felt like an open book now, rooted in trust and faith, want and need, desire and lust.

And love.

I was certain there was love in his eyes when he gazed down at me now. Or was I just confusing it with appreciation? His expression was dazed, spent, maybe a little shell-shocked. I wondered if that was because he hadn't expected me to be so uninhibited, or because I had just given him the best blow job of his life. I liked to think it was the latter, but assumed it was the former.

His fingers continued their slow, soothing massage on the back of my neck as I languidly ran my tongue up and down his twitching cock, gamely lapping up every bit of semen from him, and then from own my lips. His lungs gradually slowed their pace, and he began to thread his fingers through my hair, combing through it almost absent-mindedly. When I looked up into his face, I was sure it wasn't just gratitude I saw in his eyes. It was so much more. So many things that I knew he would probably never attempt to articulate, and I understood why. I couldn't begin to describe the gamut of emotions that had run through me over the course of this one fateful evening.

Our _bella notte._

It was with reverence that I ran my hands and my mouth over his skin now, working my way back up his long, exquisitely sculpted torso to his beautiful face. I planted baby kisses along his jaw as I seated myself upon his left thigh and curled my arms around his neck.

"You enjoy making me lose control, don't you," he murmured as his arms closed around me.

"Very much," I agreed unapologetically. "You seemed to enjoy it, too." I moved my lips to his cheek, much smoother than his sandpaper neck.

I'm not sure 'enjoy' is a strong enough word," he replied. He swept my hair from my cheek and stroked it with his thumb. "I'm not sure the right words exist."

"We don't need words." My fingers traced the outline of his luscious lips, then the cleft in his chin. "But I wish I could come up with something even half as amazing as that song you wrote me. I can't possibly explain what that means to me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before." I couldn't stop stroking his beard stubble. The grittiness of it grounded me; made all of this real, not just some fantasy my wishful imagination had concocted.

"I'm glad I was the first," he said softly. The first to tell me I'm beautiful. The first to look to me for strength. At least that's what his lyrics just told me. Was I the first he would allow to see his vulnerability? The first he would let close enough to help him, as the song seemed to tell me he needed so desperately?

I continued to stroke his jaw, my movements rhythmic and soothing. I wasn't sure which of us I was trying to calm. "You're probably not only the first to write me a song-you're probably the last." I meant it as a joke, but neither of us laughed.

"I want to be your last," he said. An overpowering wave of emotion radiated from my chest to my extremities. I looked in his eyes and was floored by the earnestness I saw there. We weren't just talking about a song anymore.

"Edward," I replied softly, my vocal chords barely able to function. "You're my only."

The intensity of the bond I felt as our eyes locked was almost too much to bear, yet I couldn't look away. Neither could he. My fingers began to tremble over the scruff of his jaw and my vision grew foggy. When I had told him earlier that he overwhelmed me completely, it had been an understatement.

He seemed to sense me unraveling. His arm tightened around my waist and his hand was warm and solid as it cradled my face. He closed his eyes, sparing me his piercing gaze, and pressed his lips firmly to mine. The kiss finally ended, but his face stayed close.

"I'd better be your only," he warned gruffly, teasing me. "Everything you just did in the past half hour had better be reserved for me and no one else."

I let out a shaky, relieved laugh. "Trust me, you're the only one I've really wanted to do that to. The only one I enjoyed, anyway."

He grinned and kissed me again. "Lucky me."

"No, lucky me. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you." My hands continued to seek comfort in his skin and hair as I held him close. "I didn't even know I was capable of wanting someone as much as I want you. It scares me sometimes."

Our eyes got tangled up again, raw tethers binding us inextricably together. "I know," he said in admission. "Why do you think I resisted you for so long? I knew it would be like this. Too much. Not enough."

His gaze was suddenly far away, though his face was inches from mine. I was afraid his eyes were focused on the past.

"You sound like you've felt this kind of connection before," I whispered. I hated the idea that he'd already experienced this overpowering euphoria with someone else-the mysterious Tanya-before me.

Edward frowned and shook his head. "I thought I had at the time. Now I know better." A smile defeated his frown and he pulled me closer. He rubbed his nose against mine, like Eskimos do, and I couldn't help but giggle before he gave me a gentle kiss.

"What about you?" he countered. "You mentioned a college boyfriend. Do I need to be worried about some great first love coming back into your life?" His tone was light, but his eyes weren't.

My giggles turned into outright laughter then. "No. You definitely don't need to worry about Mike Newton. He's a nice guy, and he was a good boyfriend. But I think we were better friends than lovers. In fact, I know we were. There was no grand love there."

"Mike Newton," Edward repeated with a fair amount of distaste, like he'd just bitten into a sour apple. I swallowed a couple of times myself, wishing I had a glass of water to wash the last of Edward's bitter ejaculate from my mouth. I loved him unconditionally, but I'd never love the taste of that stuff.

"He sounds like kind of a choad," Edward concluded about my ex. I burst into peals of laughter all over again.

"'Choad?' I haven't heard that one in awhile," I chuckled. "He's a decent guy. He treated me well. He never cheated on me, that I'm aware of."

"He was an idiot," Edward declared. "He let you go."

"You should be singing his praises, then," I pointed out.

"I suppose so," he relented. "Especially if he taught you to give head like that. No, wait, I don't want to know if he did. As far as I'm concerned, your superior oral skills are just a case of beginner's luck."

"They actually are, kind of," I admitted. "I never had quite the, uh, enthusiasm for Mike that I do for you," I assured him. "But he did like to watch porn sometimes. I paid attention."

"Clearly," Edward concurred emphatically. "You are an amazing student of observation, then."

"So do I get an 'A' for effort?"

"Are you kidding? You get an A+ for superior oral and manual presentation and execution. You're at the top of the class." His ran his thumb over my lips again; my tongue sneaked out and gave it a lick.

"I see. Is that professor speak for 'mad blow job skillz?'" I put an emphasis on the 'z' sound at the end.

Edward laughed and bounced me up and down on his knee a little bit. "The maddest."

I wanted to kiss him badly then; but even more than that, I wanted to rinse my mouth out first. Maybe he'd be into tasting his residue inside my mouth, but I was pretty much over the aftertaste myself.

I must have had the "sour apple" look on my face, because Edward soon asked me what was wrong.

"Nothing," I replied quickly. "I'm just thirsty. I really could use a drink of water."

I should have known he'd crack that code. "You didn't have to swallow, you know," he chided me, but he couldn't quite keep the smirk off of his face. He tried to look sober as he added, "I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

I sighed as I looked into the gorgeous green sea of his eyes. "I would ask you to stop being so wonderful, but I kind of like that about you. And I didn't do anything I didn't want to, so stop worrying about it."

He grinned and gave me a gentle nudge, saying, "Okay, let's go get you something to wash my nasty spooge out of your beautiful mouth."

I began laughing again as I reluctantly left his lap, stood and teetered a moment in my platform heels. Edward popped up behind me, quickly pulling up his pants and zipping the fly. He left the hook closure undone, the tab flopping open. I had the feeling he didn't plan to leave the trousers on for long. Warmth and wetness flooded me anew, and I realized just how turned on it had made me to give so much pleasure to Edward. Even though I had made a quick pit-stop to the restroom on the way out of the party earlier, there was only so much I could do to remedy the sticky situation Edward had put me in. I'd cleaned myself - and my drenched panties - as best I could with only dry toilet paper at my disposal. But now I was damp again, probably with my own fluid this time. As Edward led me by the hand through the loft to the kitchen, I wondered how quick his recovery time was. My body was eager and willing to be taken by him again.

The cold chrome and steel of Edward's kitchen was warmed by cherry wood cabinets and fifties-style appliances. He opened the cupboard nearest the refrigerator and pulled out a tall, pale blue glass.

"Do you want a beer or something?" he asked as he poked his head into the fridge. "I have Heineken, Smithwick's, and I think there's some vodka in the freezer," he grinned over his shoulder. "Or do you want orange juice? I have that. And I think there's some lemonade mix around here somewhere…."

"Stop!" I laughed. "Water is fine."

"Okay," he smiled sheepishly. "Just trying to be a good host." I thought of Esme Cullen then. It was easy to see how much of her innate thoughtfulness had been instilled in her son.

He plunked a few ice cubes from the freezer into my glass, then filled it with spring water from a gallon jug.

"Here," he said, handing it to me. "I'm going to have a beer. Let me know if you want to share." He twisted the top off of Holland's finest, then clinked the bottle neck to my glass.

"Cheers," I toasted him.

"To us," he replied.

I nodded, my eyes caught in his again as I raised the glass to my lips. We each took a generous sip of our drinks, but I couldn't stop there. Edward gave me that somewhat smug, amused grin as I gratefully gulped down most of my water. It was all I could do not to gargle with it.

"Next time, I'll get you a glass of water beforehand. I'll keep one on the bed stand for you." His eyes twinkled wickedly, and his crooked grin was worse.

"You're pretty optimistic about repeat performances of my oral presentation," I shot back.

"No, just hopeful," he grinned. "I'll make it worth your while. Payback doesn't have to be a bitch. Just the opposite, in fact."

I felt a bashful blush warm my cheeks. No matter how good I pretended to be at this game of sexy banter with Edward, at some point I always felt completely outmatched. The wine - and my bravery - from earlier in the evening had dissipated.

Edward seemed attuned to me again, so different from our past misunderstandings. I was too thankful for the shift to wonder how and when it had happened.

"Is that better?" he inquired as I took another sip of water. "You okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine. I'm great, actually." I wondered if he knew how much it meant to me just to be here with him like this. That he wanted me here, in his place. That he didn't want me with anyone else but him.

He reached out and stroked the side of my face, his gaze hypnotizing me. For a moment I was sure he could read my mind. I felt stripped bare before him, though I was still fully dressed. His eyes were lights shining into me, revealing even the most cobwebby, neglected corners of my soul.

An abrupt grin cracked his face and he said, "I need to use the little boy's room. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back." He leaned in and kissed my forehead tenderly before releasing me. My fingers brushed over the lip print on his chest as he walked past me to the back of the loft.

I was slightly bewildered at his sudden exit, but then again, he was probably just answering nature's call. He shouldn't have needed to clean up like I did earlier, because I'd done a thorough job of that with my tongue. That thought prompted me to down the rest of my water, setting the glass on the counter with a satisfied sigh when I was done.

I began to wander slowly through the rest of Edward's apartment, taking in the tiny details, the revealing nuggets. Photographs of his family and friends, in frames that varied from antique to modern, prominently displayed on a wooden shelf mounted to one wall. Issues of _Time, National Geographic, Guitar World _and _Massage_ magazines on the coffee table. Prints of Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss" and "Fulfillment" in a perfect pairing over his sofa. Candles everywhere, but in austere, masculine holders. _What guy has candles? _I mused. _One who seduces lots of women, _said the devil on one shoulder. _One who owns Joni Mitchell albums and is freaked out by dolls, _said the angel on the other.

I smiled at the angel as I walked from the living area toward Edward's bedroom and bath. At that moment, the bathroom door opened and Edward emerged, still shirtless and in suit trousers, his formerly groomed hair completely defying earlier attempts to tame it.

_The untamed part of him always wins. _Shivers ran through my body at the thought.

"Don't move," came his voice, low and seductive, across the room.

"What? Why?" I replied. I scoured the floor for an object about to trip me up, then the ceiling for a dangling lamp or spider about to hit me in the face.

"You look incredible in the moonlight," he replied softly. I shivered again at the sound of the Sex Voice, then sighed with relief that I wasn't about to make a fool of my clumsy self. I steadied myself on the brick wall next to me and glanced out the nearby window. The moon was high; not full, but luminous enough to angle its dim rays upon me through the glass.

Edward leaned over and turned off the floor lamp that fought with the moon. The ensuing darkness was liberating, exhilarating; but my eyes soon adjusted to the ambient glow bathing the room through the window.

Edward began to walk toward me, slowly and deliberately, like a stalking cat. But I wasn't afraid of his eyes on me, intense as they were. Instead they were my lifeline, my energy source, my spark. The electricity crackled and buzzed through me with increasing strength the closer he came.

He halted suddenly, still a dozen feet away, and his eyes released mine in order to possess other parts of my body. They raked over me, head to toe, before he spoke again with the same caramel-coated persuasion.

"Will you do something for me?"

I gulped and nodded. How silly of him to ask, when he knew I could refuse him nothing.

"Take off your dress."

The electricity surged through my heart, sending it galloping wildly and pumping the blood forcefully through my veins. I stared at his willful eyes, his flared nostrils, the firm set of his mouth.

I had my answer - he was ready now.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the belt of my dress. I finally had to tear my eyes from his and look down to see what I was doing. When the belt came free, it fell to the floor with a muffled thump. The left side of my dress gaped open, exposing my breast. Its hardened nipple pointed straight at the source of its arousal. I moved my shaking hands to the tie on the right, pulling it loose, exposing my right breast and its matching rigid peak.

I looked back into his eyes, finding a strange solace in the hunger I saw there. I shrugged the dress over my shoulders, peeled the sleeves from my arms and let it fall to the polished boards below. Goose bumps dotted my naked flesh as the cool air caressed me. I put my hand to the brick wall again, its rough-hewn surface reassuring under my uncertain grip.

I observed Edward's eyes grow even more ravenous as he let them roam lazily over my body, taking his time, relishing what he saw. My breaths were quick and shallow with self-conscious nervousness and excitement. I let my eyes travel over Edward in return, revisiting the subtly sculpted muscles and broad, masculine bones that lurked under his inviting flesh. It didn't seem fair that I was practically naked when half of his body was covered. I wanted to ogle the solid muscles of his thighs, the perfect round cheeks of his ass and the hard thickness of his erection, all hidden under their veil of designer fabric.

I looked into Edward's eyes again, growing impatient. I wanted him near me, on me, inside me now, while he seemed content to simply stare.

"What are you doing?" I finally demanded in a frustrated rasp.

"Memorizing you," he answered, finally moving his eyes northward from my curves to my questioning gaze. "I never want to forget how beautiful you look right now."

As I searched Edward's face, I found what I was looking for. I didn't need any liquid courage to make me brave now.

"Why don't you take a picture?" I suggested, in a tone that was anything but facetious. "It'll last longer."

His lips twitched as if he might laugh, but his eyes quickly perceived the truth.

I wasn't joking.

* * *

**(If you'd like to leave me the best kind of birthday present, please review! ;)**


	25. Convergence, part 2

**Thanks for all the lovely birthday wishes last week! I had a spectacular day because of you all, and because of a certain odd British gentleman who shall remain nameless, but behaved in typical, spectacularly unfiltered fashion and had me squealing like a fangurl most of the evening. (Wonder who that could be?)**

**Thanks for all the great feedback, help and inspiration...you all know who you are. All of you who have reviewed, added or favorited in any way make me squeal almost as much as Rob. Oooh dang, I just said his name!**

**Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for the obvious. And to the Nameless One for endless inspiration. I Will Never Get Tired Of You. (-awesome King's X song, check it out.)**

**Without further ado, here is the rest of Edward and Bella's endless evening of bliss. Complimentary ciggies will be handed out at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 22 (cont'd.)**

"Are you actually suggesting that I take nude photos of you?"

Edward's tone was incredulous; his face, cautiously hopeful. I gnawed my bottom lip, then replied before I lost my nerve.

"I trust you."

His stared at me a moment, reading me, perhaps deliberating. My pulse picked up its already swift pace as I watched his deliberation shift to decision. The left corner of his mouth twitched a couple of times before curving into a grin.

"You really shouldn't have said that," he smirked. Before I could react, he disappeared into the dusk behind me. I heard a drawer open, followed by the sound of rummaging, then the slam of the drawer closing. The sharp sound kick-started my heart again, and I wondered if I could go through with this.

I listened to Edward's bare feet pad along the hardwood floor and I wondered when he'd removed his shoes and socks. I was dying to kick off my heels as well, but I had the feeling that they were adding to the look that Edward was so eager to capture for all eternity. I didn't dare call it "sexy."

Or did I? I peered into the darkness and watched his shape materialize in the moonlight as he returned to where he had been standing. When his eyes met mine again, there was something visceral in their depths that made me quiver in my already precarious platform shoes. I never imagined that it could feel this achingly good, down in the marrow of my bones, to be so blatantly ogled by a man. Yet his bedroom eyes didn't feel lewd as they swept over me; the digital camera in his hand didn't seem exploitive. Edward always made me feel like much more than an object of lust. Maybe that's why I was okay with him taking pictures of me like this.

He raised one eyebrow at me and narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" His voice was a velvet glove reaching out to caress and sooth me.

My fingers gripped the bricks next to me and I began to lean on my arm to support me, shifting my weight to the other leg. I took another deep breath and nodded.

"God, that's perfect," he murmured of my new position against the wall. "Don't move."

He seemed to have trouble prying his eyes from me long enough to adjust the settings on the camera. He mumbled something about not using the flash and needing a tripod, but that he'd try to get a shot that wasn't blurry. I silently hoped that the pictures would be so blurry that it would be impossible to make out my rigid nipples and hairless snatch under its sheath of sheer lace.

Edward held the camera up, looking at me on the display screen. I felt my body stiffen from head to toe. He frowned a little and raised his eyes to mine.

"Bella," he said, his face softening. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me."

_Just me. _Just the guy who had turned my world upside down in five short weeks. The guy who had healed ancient wounds and opened new ones, unlocked desires I never knew I had, and touched my soul like no one I'd ever encountered in my twenty-two short years. _Just me. _As if he were no one special to get nervous or excited about.

Yet I felt myself grow calm under the spell of that velvet voice and hypnotic gaze. My eyes were still locked with his in welcome resignation when I heard the click of the shutter. I blinked and jumped a little, and Edward smiled. He hadn't even glanced at the camera, apparently taking the chance that I was still in the frame when he pressed the button.

"Sneaky," I accused with a shaky laugh.

His eyes crinkled with mirth for a moment, then smoothed quickly as he looked at the picture he'd just taken on the viewing screen of the camera. His face was serious now, and I wished I could see his eyes so I would know what he was thinking.

He began to walk toward me, still staring at the small LCD screen. He finally looked up when he was next to me. His expression was indescribable. I wanted to call it "love."

"Here, look at this," he instructed, handing me the camera. "Maybe now you'll see what I see when I look at you."

I took the camera in my unsteady hand and brought it close to my face. I stared at the image of a slender girl whose naked body formed a stark, ivory column against its backdrop of deep indigo shadow. Her gentle curves were transformed into statuesque arcs of light and shadow by the moonbeams slicing across her body. She looked otherworldly, like a goddess from some strange mythology, or a work of modern art hewn from marble or cast in porcelain. It would have been easy to disconnect myself from this surreal image; to write it off as a flattering trick of the light, were it not for one thing:

The look in my eyes.

The message written in them was as plain as if I'd had the words tattooed on my forehead. Even in miniature, it was easy to see the raw emotion glistening in those dark, vulnerable orbs. They were the eyes of someone hopelessly in love with the object of their gaze. The camera had captured what my words could not.

"Do you see?" Edward said quietly, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair over my bare shoulder. "…how beautiful you are?" His fingers were hot molasses trickling down my arm on the way to retrieving his camera. "You take my breath away."

He wasn't looking at the artful digital image when he repeated the words I'd said to him earlier this evening. He was looking at me, in the flesh, and I was the one who couldn't catch her breath.

"I'm the luckiest bastard in the world," he said, his gaze dropping again to the viewfinder.

"Why, because I let you take naked pictures of me?" I asked, making a feeble attempt at humor before I came undone completely.

"No. Because of the way you look at me."

My heart skipped a beat, maybe two. "How do I look at you?"

My heart started up again, an aching throb, as I waited for him to say the words. His lips parted, and then he hesitated. I recognized the story in his eyes, because it was the same one etched indelibly in mine.

"Like I'm actually deserving of someone like you," he said at last.

Those were not the words I was expecting; not the words I wanted to hear. I shook my head, baffled again at how little he thought of himself. "I'm the lucky one," I insisted. "You bring out the best in me."

His faint grin was sardonic. "Do I?" he murmured, reaching his index finger out and running it lightly along my jaw. "I think I bring out something a little… _wild_ in you. I just want you to be sure that's a good thing."

"It's a very good thing," the wild part of me answered confidently. The rest of me vacillated between being thrilled and scared shitless.

"You think so, huh?" The Sex Voice was getting to me. I could feel it ooze down my spine, infusing every nerve ending with desire. Edward reached for my hair again, his hand so light upon the strands that I could barely discern them. "Sweet girl," he murmured, his voice as feathery as his touch. His gaze was the opposite, unbearably intense, as he leaned in and asked, "Will you let me take another picture?"

A fresh wave of goose bumps washed from my scalp to my toes. Unable to find my voice, I merely nodded. His smile was gentle, but his eyes were beginning to burn with something much more urgent. His hand dropped from my hair to my arm, and he pulled on it carefully, turning my body toward the window.

"I want you to face the wall," he said. A decadent thrill zigzagged down my spine at his words, a softly spoken command, but a command nonetheless. He ran his hands down my arms until they reached my fingers. He lifted my hands up and placed them, higher than shoulder-height, on the wall before me. I gasped when he let go of them and glided his hands all the way down the sides of my body until they rested on my hips. My spine arched instinctively, pushing my backside toward him. He rewarded my wanton behavior by gliding his fingers slowly down my hips and over my cheeks, giving them a squeeze that sent a surge of heat between my thighs.

"God damn," he whistled in a low voice, his hot breath searing my ear. "You didn't think I could pass up the opportunity to capture that sweet ass of yours, did you?"

I let out a short, shocked laugh at his words; and when he gave my right cheek a playful swat before he walked away, my laugh turned to a tiny hiccup of surprise.

I heard him pad across the floorboards again, presumably back to the same vantage point he had used earlier.

"Turn your head and look at me, Bella," he said. I had no choice but to obey the Sex Voice. I looked over my shoulder back to where he stood, his eyes glued to my likeness on the LCD screen. I was sure the expression on my face belied my growing desire as I waited, exposed and vulnerable, under the camera's watchful eye. "Put your weight on your right leg and bend your left."

I did as he asked, feeling a little silly, but also a little sexy, as I posed for him.

"Now turn your upper body a little more toward me." As I twisted myself slightly toward the window, I realized he was positioning me so that he could see the profile of my breasts better in the moonlight. The blood began to pulse heavily through my groin at the realization that he was turning me into his personal pin-up girl. The feminist side of me was incensed, but her grunts of protest were drowned out by the pleasurable sighs of my newfound wild side.

"You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?" he said, a statement of disapproval more than a question.

My wild side begged to differ. She arched her back again, turned her face toward Edward and gave him a look that was as seductive as she could muster. She was rewarded with a groan, a couple of choice curse words and the faint click of a camera button being pushed.

"Perfect," he said, his voice thick.

He took a couple more shots and then returned to me, setting the camera on the window sill next to us. I began to turn to face him but he stopped me with another silken command.

"No, don't move." He stood next to me, chest facing the side of my body, one hand closing over mine on the wall. He trailed the fingers of the other slowly down my shoulder, to the crook of my armpit, then down my back, leaving a fresh trail of goose bumps in their wake. When he reached the satin chord of my g-string, he slid his fingers underneath it, letting the backs of them stroke my cheek as he ran his hand under the string and down toward the lace panel.

"Still wet," he whispered, his fingers closing around the lace and brushing the delicate skin between my legs. A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

"I think these panties are ruined, don't you?" he murmured. I looked up at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on my cheeks and his hand between them. I nodded in agreement, though he was scarcely paying attention.

"I think they should go," he announced. And with a swiftness and strength that astonished me, he yanked the lace triangle away from my body. I heard the rip of the stitches tearing at the same time I felt the fabric snap sharply between my legs. I shrieked in surprise at the pinch of pain, then the deliciousness of being freed, as he tore the panties from my body and tossed them somewhere into the darkness outside our circle of moonlight.

"That's better," he sighed, his lips close to my ear. He ran his hand over my cheeks, one at a time, before sliding it between them. My legs spread involuntarily, opening me up to his probing fingers. I moaned softly as they worked their way down to the epicenter of my yearning, stroking the creamy flesh and spreading its moisture in all directions.

I sighed loudly, my head falling sideways toward Edward's face as his lips claimed my neck. The fingers of his left hand slid between mine as he continued to press my hand to the bricks; the fingers of his right hand pushed straight up into my vagina, first one, then two; possibly more, as he pumped and filled me again and again until my cries of pleasure were as rhythmic as his strokes.

"You are so… ridiculously… fucking… hot ," he murmured in punctuation to the thrusts of his fingers. His voice shook my spine as his fingers vibrated deep in my belly. "You make me cuss and say the nastiest things to you, when I don't want to. I can't help it. You make me crazy."

"I don't care," I gasped. I wished I could touch him but he had me pinned to the wall, holding me like a cello, my other arm useless except to reach back and guide his hand, which was completely unnecessary. "I like you this way. I want you this way."

"I know you do," he whispered, blowing more heat into my quivering eardrum. He slowed his pace, then removed his fingers from inside me, stroking me from front to back again. "Have you ever thought about why you like to make me come unglued? Why you like it when I'm unpredictable?"

I felt my brows furrow as I looked up at him. I actually hadn't give that question much thought. I had dreamed of pushing all his buttons and making him lose his inhibitions with me… but why? Was it only the sex I wanted? Or was there something more?

Edward searched my face; I was sure my sudden uncertainty was evident. I didn't have the answers. And I certainly wasn't capable of much coherent thought at the moment.

"You wanted so much to unleash me from my cage, with no thought to the consequences," he continued. His hand began to roam further now, caressing my thighs, my hips, my back.

"Consequences…?" I questioned weakly.

"Did you think about what would happen afterward? What you would do with me after you set me free?" His fingers slid around my back and over my breast, rubbing the nipple into a taut button.

"I think I did pretty well earlier," I replied, trying to sound brave even though my head-to-toe quaking threatened to invade my vocal chords. "You seemed quite satisfied."

"I was much more than satisfied." I could feel his lips curl into a grin as they brushed my neck. "Maybe you did think about what you would do with me. But did you think about what I would do with you?" He kissed my jaw. "…for you?" He kissed my throat. "…_to_ you?" He kissed my collarbone.

Oh, God. If he had any idea of the dozens of fantasies he'd generated in my hormone-addled mind since the day I met him, he wouldn't need to ask such questions. Yet I couldn't bring myself to put any of those hidden desires into words; to confess the myriad ways I had imagined him ravaging my body. I could say nothing now. I could only concentrate on slowing my lungs so that my breaths didn't sound like desperate panting as his hand continued to explore every inch of skin that it could reach.

"I think you wanted to release me so that I would do the same for you." His hand snaked around to my belly, stroking the vulnerable flesh and making the sensitive nerves jump in anticipation. His lips pressed to my ear; his face nuzzled me and my head fell back, inviting his kisses down my neck.

"You wanted me to let go of my inhibitions so it would be okay for you to let go of yours," he continued. His words ignited a fire deep in my belly even more than his fingers had.

There was a nugget of truth there that I had never consciously considered. In my estimation, I had always been an average girl, destined to live an average life. I had dated ordinary guys in high school and had ordinary sex with my ordinary first boyfriend in college. I used to have ridiculously overblown romantic fantasies in my early teens, like most girls do; but after the accident, the fantasies stopped. There was no point in daydreaming about some handsome prince coming to whisk me away from reality. I didn't deserve such a thing.

But now, here he was anyway. The dream I'd given up on was looking me in the face: a man so outstanding in every way that I could still barely believe he was real. But most astonishing of all, he saw something outstanding in me. Something worth throwing all caution to the wind for. It never occurred to me that when I finally unlocked Edward's self-imposed prison, it had been the key to unlocking my own.

He was right about all of it. Every time I was with him, I came a little more undone. He had made me bold enough with lust and love to seduce him twice already tonight. Now it was my turn to let him have his way with me.

He was behind me now, his body pressing closer, his hard-on pushing into my hip through his pants. While his left hand continued to hold mine prisoner against the wall, his right slid down my belly and between my thighs, pushing them open, stroking the nerve-filled hood of my clit back to my wet opening. I laid my head against his chest; his breath was heavy and hot on my cheek. I reached down with my free hand and placed it over his, pushing him against me, guiding him inside me, working his hand faster and faster.

"Fuck, Bella," he growled, pulling his hand away and releasing me. I whimpered slightly in protest until I heard his pants unzip, followed by the blessed sound of them hitting the floor and being kicked impatiently out of the way. I reached behind me for his dick; he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around him, then guided it up and down as I had just done to him. I looked over my shoulder, watching him masturbate with my hand, and my pussy throbbed with envy. As much as I loved the feel of my hand pumping his velvety erection, it was nothing to the sensation of him plunging deep inside me.

I finally put my frustrated desires into words. They blurted out rather unexpectedly, and I wondered if this was what happened to him.

"Fuck me, Edward."

It sounded harsh, almost guttural; an anguished plea turned into a demand.

He only chuckled as he released my hand. "Oh, I intend to," came the Sex Voice over my shoulder. "I intend to fuck you very thoroughly, right here against this wall, before I carry you to my bed and fuck you some more."

I groaned at his words, and the actions that accompanied them. He placed my right hand back against the wall, then ran his hands, silky smooth, down my body again, front and back, until every inch of me was gooseflesh. And then, as I sighed with pleasure, a loud slapping sound met my ears, accompanied by a sharp pain that seared through my right buttock. I gasped with shock at the realization of what Edward had just done.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he whispered over my shoulder, rubbing the offended cheek soothingly with his hand, and then giving it a squeeze. I shook my head in denial, for the sting had been brief. Stranger still, the aftershock of it was rather warm and pleasant.

"I've threatened to give you a spanking twice before, and both times you seemed very eager to receive one," he goaded me, his voice so sweet and melodious that I would have endured much more just to hear it. "You weren't lying to me, were you, Bella?"

"No, of course-"

_Slap!_

I let out a tiny shriek this time after he smacked my left buttock, another sharp sensation that resonated throughout my backside before settling into that warm tingle again. He massaged that cheek, too, when he was finished; then his other hand joined in, rubbing and squeezing both buttocks until I was nothing but soaking wet with need in between.

"I don't think you were lying, either. I think you like how it feels. And I think you like the element of surprise. Spanking-" _slap! _"-stimulates all those nerve endings in a whole new way. It can be very sensual. A big turn-on."

I was living proof of that, shivering and drawing shaky breaths as he massaged my tingling ass again. The last blow had been right across both cheeks, low and close to my genitals. The aftershocks burned through my groin, making me want him to fuck me worse than ever before.

"It turns me on, anyway," he murmured into my other ear. "If you had any idea how sexy your ass looks when I play with it, you'd charge money to let me do it."

I couldn't hold back my snort of laughter. "That would make me a hooker."

_Slap!_

"Don't talk about my girlfriend that way," he ordered.

I wasn't sure what made me giddier: the wild rush of endorphins caused by the minor assault on my backside, or Edward's pronouncement that I was his girlfriend. Perhaps it was the strange confluence of these two seemingly incompatible events that sent me over the edge.

Either way, I began giggling in earnest then. _Nervous laughter_, I thought to myself. I had to release the tornado of sensations whipping through my body somehow.

"You think it's funny when I smack your ass?" Edward growled in my ear. He circled his arms around me and pulled me flush against him. I groaned at the feel of his hot skin and hard muscle pressed against me. "Or do you find the idea of being my girlfriend laughable?"

I grew serious quickly. "You know that's not true," I protested. I dared to remove my hands from the wall to wrap my arms around Edward's. I wanted as much of us to be touching as possible. I longed to turn around and kiss him, to see and touch his face; but he held me fast against him and rocked me gently in his arms.

"So you'll let me be your boyfriend, then?" The words were muffled in my hair. I wanted to laugh again because the question was so absurd.

"Let you?" I asked in disbelief. "Like I could refuse you. Like I'd ever want to."

"Mmm, I like the idea that you can't refuse me," he murmured. He continued to sway with me in time to some soundless tune, our bodies pressed tightly into one. "So does that mean that I get to hold you and kiss you and make love to you whenever I want to?"

_Yes, please, _I wanted to beg. I held out for more. "Of course. As long as I'm in the mood, too," I teased him. I had trouble imagining an occasion when I wouldn't be in the mood for Edward.

"I'd never force you, you know that."

"I know," I relented. His hands, and mouth, began to roam over me restlessly. Mine did the same, tracing the muscles of his forearms.

"And what if I feel like spanking you and devouring your pussy and fucking the hell out of you until you can't do anything but scream my name… is that okay?"

He spoke these coarse and vulgar words in the deepest, most dulcet tones imaginable. I couldn't deny the paroxysm of desire that seized me at the thought of the things he had just suggested. It was definitely okay. Better than okay. In fact, I was hoping that was exactly what he had planned for me in the immediate future.

"You're awfully quiet, Bella," he said. His hands began their perusal of my entire frame again, up and down, back and forth, as I moaned wordlessly. "A few minutes ago you told me to fuck you. Is that what you want?"

It was certainly what his dick wanted. Its firm length was pressed right between my cheeks, ready to divide and conquer. I was astounded at how badly I wanted that, too.

"Answer me, Bella," Edward insisted quietly. I didn't know how much more I could take of his breath billowing through my ear, straight down the squirming nerves of my spine. "What do you want?"

I reached back to grasp the outline of his shoulders in my hands, my back arching and my ass pushing against his cock. His hands quickly found my breasts; they swelled into his palms as he grasped them firmly.

"I want it all," I finally whispered hoarsely. "Give me everything you've got, Edward. Everything."

The growl that rumbled deep in his chest made my groin throb pitifully. "Greedy girl," he said, his voice growing rougher. "I love that about you."

_I love everything about you. _Why couldn't I say the words? Maybe they weren't necessary, at least not now. Edward made sure that I was incapable of forming coherent speech for the next twenty minutes, at least.

His mouth finally abandoned my neck in favor of my back, working its way down my spine to my tailbone. By the time he was on his knees between my legs, my fingers were clutching the brick wall again, bracing my body for the imminent assault on its senses.

Edward's hands came down hard on my ass, fingers splaying over the round flesh, thumbs pulling me wide open. I gave up trying to control my moans. They started before I ever felt the intense jolt of electricity from the first touch of his tongue; they only got louder as he licked up and down my clit and probed deep into my wet opening.

"God, I missed the taste of you," he mumbled between my cheeks before burying his face again. I sobbed and panted as he tongued my anus, then slowly pushed his finger against the tight opening. I remembered how I'd relaxed myself before, and I concentrated on doing that again, wanting to experience that strangely delicious sensation once more.

The pain was brief and less intense this time; the pleasure even greater as he pushed his finger upward, deep inside. I groaned in approval while Edward caressed my buttocks as he pumped his finger slowly, rhythmically into my rectum.

"You like this, don't you," he whispered against my left cheek, before sinking his teeth gently into my flesh. His moved his other hand to my clit again, rubbing lightly in time with the movements of his other hand.

"God, yes," I sighed, arching and pushing my body toward this amazing source of pleasure. I was glad there was no one but Edward to hear me in this silent, open space. My sighs and moans seemed to reverberate around the room, and Edward echoed them, obviously enjoying what he was doing to me.

"That's good, because I like filling you up," he replied in a low voice. That's when his middle finger found its way easily into the moist flesh of my vagina. I gasped and groaned as his fingers worked in tandem, front and back, pushing deeply inside me. When his ring finger joined the middle one, I began sobbing in earnest, overwhelmed at how good the pressure felt. He picked up the pace, thrusting faster, and I could feel my wildly pumping blood begin to gather deep in my belly. He was going to make me come already. I could feel it stirring and building.

So could he, because he was relentless then, fucking me rapidly with his fingers. "That is my favorite sound in the world," he muttered gruffly as the wet friction of his fingers plunging into me grew louder in the quiet air. "Come for me, Bella. I know you're close."

He managed to maneuver himself between my legs so that his mouth could find my clit, tonguing me in time with the ministrations of his hand. I thought I might black out as all the blood rushed from my head to my groin, only to be pumped violently through my pussy and back through my body as I came.

I cried out to Edward, God, Jesus and possibly some pagan deities as my body quaked with the intensity of my orgasm. The freedom I felt afterward was almost as good as the euphoria beforehand. Maybe it was the surrender of letting someone else know my body so intimately… the act of literally putting myself in Edward's hands, and trusting that he would use that power only to help me discover heights of ecstasy - and intimacy - that I never knew I was capable of finding.

"I can't even tell you how much I love making you come," Edward sighed into my backside as he gently removed his hands from inside me. He began to massage me instead, running his fingers slowly up my torso and then down my legs, soothing my trembling muscles. His lips were soft on my skin, kissing my hips and buttocks and lower back, over and over.

"I can't tell you how much I love it, either," I rasped helplessly, trying to calm myself as I came down a notch from my ridiculous high. "You know just how to do it, too. You're amazing. You're…." I gave up trying to find adjectives. His hands were on my ass again, stroking, squeezing, occasionally swatting me gently. He wasn't going to let me come down. After all, he hadn't gotten his own satisfaction yet. But I had the feeling he was about to.

He moved his hand between my legs and stroked me again, then smacked the sensitive flesh lightly, rapidly, repeatedly until I groaned anew. He stood then and pressed his body to mine, its heat searing me head to toe. His erection was flush between his belly and the crack of my ass. We both made similar noises of pleasure at the sensation of our bodies brought together again.

"Women have it so good," he declared, assaulting my ear with his steamy breath. "You can come over and over without any recovery time." His lips pursed in a kiss on my earlobe. "I'm going to make you come again, Bella." His tongue traced the thin skin covering the tiny bones of my ear, sending incredibly intense shockwaves through my entire being with little effort.

He moved away from me long enough to reach down and push his rock-hard dick between my legs. I welcomed its hot length against my raw and sensitive flesh, my body again arching and spreading in preparation.

He took me with one long, smooth, yet ruthless stroke this time, making me cry out at the sharp sensation. He felt impossibly deep from this angle, impaling my belly in a way that was so intense it was almost painful. But as he started to move slowly inside me, the intensity began to build to something far from pain.

"How can you feel so fucking good?" Edward sighed into my neck as he continued his relentless thrusting. "You were made for me, Bella. You were made to take my cock."

I was still astonished at how much is crass language turned me on. My excitement was only heightened when he closed his hands over mine on the wall and then pushed them higher over my head, elongating my entire body as he stretched further inside me with every thrust. The noises I made were unintelligible, animalistic, as I reveled in my body being taken over by his.

"Is your back okay?" he murmured suddenly. "I don't want to hurt you."

God, how I loved him. Every time I thought I couldn't love him more, he would say something like this.

"My back is fine. Don't stop. Take me. Make me yours." My words were so hoarse, I barely recognized my own voice.

"You are mine," he grunted, his tone as raw as my own. He released my hands, but I kept them where they were, relishing the vulnerable feeling of being opened to him completely. He grasped my hips to hold them steady as he pumped his cock inside me, gradually escalating from sensual to primal as his pace increased.

"I know you like it when I make love to you," he said, breathing heavily with exertion. "But you love it when I fuck you. You come when I fuck you."

I sobbed with pleasure as he impaled me hard and fast then, the unbearable pressure turning into the familiar burn of my next orgasm waiting to happen. He said nothing then, just pounded me senseless, both of us making noises that were nothing but incoherent ecstasy. He was right. I loved it. And I was going to come.

"Oh, baby. That's it. That's it. Let me have it." His frantic commentary pushed me over the edge. How could he know how to play my body so well already, to orchestrate my climaxes so skillfully that he could feel the crescendo swell through me before my release?

I clawed at the wall and cried out loudly as every muscle within me convulsed violently at the impact of my orgasm. My inner walls contracted so hard around his cock that he cried out with me, almost a whimper. I was glad his hands gripped my hips so firmly, because the rest of me sagged in defeat as I gave in to the powerful contractions that shook me.

"Edward… please," I begged as my body went limp in his hands. He had already brought me to an unfathomable release twice, yet through my fog of ecstasy, I realized that he still hadn't come. He was still hard inside me, still engorged and unfulfilled.

He wasn't done with me yet.

I sobbed anew at the realization. I didn't know how much more I could take. My sex seemed to be taking over my entire body, its throbbing demands the only thing I could register. He was going to fuck me raw, and if I admitted the truth to myself, I was thrilled at the prospect.

He withdrew and gently turned me to face him. I was finally able to look him in the eyes after our intense coming together. Everything I could possibly hope to see was there: the lust, the longing, the want, the need, the love. Everything I knew I was mirroring back to him.

He kissed me then, and it was the most delicious sensation of all. Open, searching, finding. Our mouths thrilled to being joined together as much as our sex did. My happy hands clutched his hair, toyed with the thick ducktail on his neck, fingered the moles that decorated it on either side. He circled his arms around me and lifted me up with a sigh, effortlessly pulling me off the ground. My arms and legs wasted no time in wrapping around him, and his hands quickly hoisted my thighs up to carry me. I gratefully took the opportunity to kick off my killer heels, sighing with satisfaction as they hit the floor with a loud thunk.

We were in his bedroom in seconds, no excess alcohol tripping Edward up this time. He managed to strip the covers back and deposit me in the middle of his bed with surprising grace. I scooted back toward the pillows, gratefully falling into them as Edward crawled over me. He stared down at me with such fervor that my pulse began to race. He looked like he was going to say something, but then swallowed hard, as if choking on the words.

Instead he leaned down and kissed me, his tongue slowly probing my mouth, savoring the feel and flavor as I did the same. I ran my hands up his arms as he held himself aloft; I yearned for him to let his body fall into mine. But I settled for his ardent kisses instead, and sighed as he moved them away from my mouth and down my body. He licked gently at the hollow of my throat; sucked and tugged at my hardened nipples; tickled the indentation of my belly button. I could only stroke his hair and massage the muscles of his neck and shoulders as he worked his way down my frame. I raised my leg between his, letting my knee and then my shin stroke the underside of his cock as he moved. He undulated softly against it, stroking himself on my leg. His mouth moved down to my surely bright pink pussy, and I didn't struggle as he opened my legs wide and pushed them flat to the mattress.

"It's a good thing I didn't bring the camera in here," he said at last with a gleam in his eye. "You would have turned me into a pornographer."

I let out a small laugh. "Would you really want a picture of me lying spread-eagle like this?"

He gave me that look as if I were completely obtuse again. "Honey, I would hang a six-foot mural of your spread-eagle pussy on my wall if you'd let me."

I laughed in earnest then. "You would not."

"You clearly have no idea how beautiful your snatch is," he said, his eyes working it over hungrily. "It's truly a work of art. A work of art that I intend to plunder again. Because I'm the luckiest bastard in the world."

I got my wish then. He stopped hovering over me and pressed his body into mine, scooting himself up until his lips were tantalizingly close to mine and his hands smoothed the hair back from my face.

"I'm going to make love to you now, Isabella Swan. And you're going to come for me again."

I sighed in submission as his hardness found my softness once more and worked its way inside. His eyes never left mine as he moved sensually against me, filling me slowly and pulling out, languid and gorgeous and enthralling. My hands were free to roam his body, to examine the push and pull of his muscles as he moved, to feel their contraction and extension as he pumped in slow motion. He was the work of art, I thought. Yet I couldn't seem to voice my adoration. The room was still, almost reverently so, bathed in the blue moonlight of a distant window. Speaking now would only break the spell that had bound us both.

He kissed me, his lips as sensuous as his hips, and I fell easily into this new, unhurried rhythm. Though he didn't pick up the pace, I could feel his movements intensify, his eyes growing glassy, nostrils flaring, as he ground me more thoroughly into the mattress with every thrust. The more his abdomen pressed against me, the more vividly I felt the impact of his cock driving deep inside. I reached up and stroked his face, wondering if he could see in my eyes how much I loved this; how much I loved him. His eyebrows knitted and he pushed inside me even harder as he returned my gaze. No words were necessary now. They were clumsy and inefficient. Inadequate, as always.

I let my hands punctuate our wordless language now, sliding down his body, clutching the firm round cheeks of his ass as he drilled me in this new, inexorable rhythm. I wanted to pull him deeper; feel the weight of his body as he let it sink into me. I sensed the welcome burn beginning in my belly, and I lifted my hips up to meet him as best I could under the pressure of his thrusts.

Edward's face was growing more impassioned as he worked, and he lifted himself on his hands so that he could drive his dick into me more forcefully. I moaned my approval, and he joined me, making soft, grunting noises with every thrust. The tension was growing inside me, thick and palpable, and I closed my eyes a moment to savor the sensation. I heard Edward's raspy breath quicken, followed by two muffled, metallic ringing sounds. My eyes flew open to see Edward's arms taut above me, hands clutching the top rail of the iron headboard. The muscles seethed and popped from his straining flesh as he surged inside me, using the headboard for leverage now.

He had stoked the slow burn in my belly to a fire with his actions. I was overwhelmed at the sight of him undulating above me; the feel of him slamming my body mercilessly toward ecstasy with his own. He was right again. He was making love to me now, with a simultaneously beautiful yet brutal intensity that I had never seen or felt before; and I was going to come.

But not without him this time.

My fingers slid between his cheeks and found the sensitive flesh between his scrotum and anus. I stroked his perineum in time with the rhythm of his thrusts, and he groaned loudly, his eyes wild as he stared down at me. Each breath was a whimper now and I could feel him swell inside me. The tempo of his thrusts increased at last as he came closer and closer to losing his famous control.

"Bella… please…." he echoed my earlier pleas. I had never been so happy to hear a man beg in my life.

"Come for me, Edward," I ordered softly. I lifted my hips up to swallow him as I pushed him deep inside with my hands. He shuddered and groaned so loudly that the breath of it blew over my face in a hot, heady breeze. And then the delicious heat of his cum shot deep inside me, over and over, its molten lava igniting my own volcano.

As we came together, our eyes locked, fighting the urge to disappear behind our lids at such unbearable ecstasy. We gasped and panted and moaned in unison; and when I stared in awe at the film of tears that glistened over his green orbs, I felt one of my own slip from my right eye, down my temple and into my hair.

He let go of the bed frame then, easing his body onto mine, letting it settle into my welcoming flesh. His kiss was very nearly worshipful as he cradled my face in his hands. His muscles still quivered and I stroked him gently until he relaxed. I savored the feel of his cock twitching occasionally inside me as it, too, recovered from its exertion. The pores of my body gratefully drank in the sheen of sweat that emanated from Edward. As his body cooled, I reached over and pulled the covers over him. He didn't move, save for his fingers softly combing the hair at my temples, and his lips softly caressing mine. Our eyes were dull and drowsy with slaked lust and punch-drunk love.

We never spoke. We stayed joined together even when Edward rolled to his side, pulling me onto mine. We simply entwined our limbs and stared sleepily at one another, sharing one pillow under our heavy heads. It was a strange sort of staring contest as we took turns dozing for a moment, then opening one sleepy eye to make sure the other was still there. He grinned at me at last before he gave in to unconsciousness; and, staring at his beautiful face, I finally succumbed.

Which brought to me to this morning, and my sleepless study of Edward in all his softly snoring glory. Even his snores were sexy and comforting; soft, rumbling sounds not unlike the purring of a cat. They had lulled me to sleep more than once last night. But now I lay gazing at my favorite work of art, reliving the many ways we had ravished each other the night before. Wondering if I was up to continuing the love fest this morning. I was a little sore, but in a good way. A delicious, never-want-it-to-end way. I didn't want any of this to end. Time could stop now and leave me here, on this day, in Edward's bed, forever, and I would have no complaints.

He was so beautiful as he lay sleeping that it almost hurt to look at him. Still, I stared at him, unblinking, committing to memory the way pale morning light played over his cheeks and eyelashes. And then I remembered that I didn't have to do that. I could capture that image forever.

I gingerly pulled myself away from Edward; he frowned slightly as his empty arm settled on the pillow next to him. I tiptoed around the room, glad to see that he had left a discarded t-shirt and shorts on the chair next to the dresser. I eagerly pulled on his worn clothes, breathing his faint scent deeply into my lungs before heading out to the living room.

As I approached the scene of our tryst against the wall, I let out a tiny laugh at the sight of our clothes strewn about: my dress, his pants, pooled into one wrinkled fabric puddle on the glossy hardwood; one scarlet pump adjacent; the other somehow five feet away, near the sofa. And thrown clear to the middle of the living room floor lay the tiny, pathetic remnant of my torn g-string, a ruined casualty of our love.

I retrieved Edward's camera from the window sill, turned it on, and took a picture of our discarded fancy clothes. I grinned as I viewed the digital image before it disappeared. He would laugh when he came across this later.

I returned to his bedroom, and my breath caught in my chest at the sight of him. He had pulled the pillow to him and was clutching it as though it were my warm body. His face was a tranquil sea. He was part little boy, part sexy man, and all Edward.

I approached the bed quietly and stood gazing at him for a moment before I took the photo of his glorious, unforgettable form. I opened my mouth to release the words I'd been longing to say, even if I was the only one who would hear them.

"I love you, Edward."

He didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't react in any way. He simply lay perfectly still, my sleeping angel with the devilish streak that I could no longer live without.

I finally tore my eyes away from their heaven and meandered back out into the loft. I couldn't get the song he'd written out of my mind, the chorus repeating in my head like a siren song, tormenting me. I could remember some of the chorus, but very little of the verses. I wanted to hear the song again, or at least, read the beautiful, haunted words that Edward had composed for me. He had to have them written down somewhere.

I headed for his makeshift "conservatory" and made a beeline straight for the piano. No music sat upon its desk, so I opened the bench lid and rifled through the music contained within. Nothing but printed classical music was stored there.

I frowned and looked around, my eyes falling on a stack of music next to the sofa. I flipped through the pile, but again, most of it was pre-printed guitar tablature. I glanced at the familiar markings, surprised at how easily it all came back to me. I could remember the finger positions for the major chords as if my last lesson were yesterday. Would it be that easy to try again? Like getting back on a bicycle, even after years of standing firmly on solid ground?

I turned my gaze to the row of guitar cases stacked neatly against one wall. My fingers began to itch and my heart thumped loudly in my chest. Maybe it was time to get back on the bike. What did I have to lose? I had given up all of myself to Edward last night, and the freedom was exhilarating. I knew he was here to catch me if I should fall. He had already patched me up once. I knew he was the one who could do it again.

My heart accelerated as I knelt before the newest case, the one that held that gorgeous Martin acoustic he'd played last night. It was the guitar for Our Song. My fingers trembled slightly as I unhooked the fasteners and opened the lid, but I couldn't help but sigh with happiness at the sight of the shiny, brand-new instrument. It was breath-taking.

I grasped its rosewood neck and gingerly pulled it out, surprised at how lightweight it was. I carried it to the nearby couch and sat down. The guitar seemed to settle itself in the proper position, my right arm draped over its pale spruce top as the ebony back settled against my stomach. My left hand wrapped around the neck for a moment, fingers impotently flat on the frets. I lifted them off and let my right thumb slowly strum the strings, top to bottom: E, A, D, G, B, E.

"Elephants And Donkeys Grow Big Ears," I whispered to myself. I could hear your voice as clearly as if you were in the room with me. I never forgot that phrase you taught me to help me remember the notes, Mom. I never will.

My left hand took over after that, fingers forming themselves into basic chords on the frets as I fought to press the strings down with my tender, callous-free fingertips. C, C7. D, D minor. F. G, G7. A, A minor. My right hand strummed along, and I tried not to wince at the barely-in-tune chords as I played them. All that mattered is that I was doing it. I hadn't forgotten the chords.

I could feel happy, grateful tears form as I found A7 and B7. I should have known I'd never truly forget, anymore than I could ever forget you.

I was so engrossed in my musical rediscovery that I didn't hear the soft pad of bare feet across the hardwood floor. I very nearly jumped out of my skin when a familiar velvet voice cut through the sound of my tentative, rusty guitar work.

"What are you doing, Bella?"


	26. Convergence, part 3

**Thanks for all your patience, everyone! I didn't think this chapter would take this long. I didn't think this chapter would _be_ this long. These characters never fail to take me by surprise, and this chapter was no exception.**

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews, favorites, alerts and tweets... I'm grateful for every one. And I'm grateful to Stephenie Meyer for providing such fun characters to play with.**

**And now, the Morning After continues...**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 22 (cont'd.)**

As soon as I heard Edward's voice, a wave of fear barreled through me. I was the proverbial kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

I turned wide, guilty eyes to Edward as he stood gaping at me. He wore only a faded pair of sweat pants that hung precariously around his trim waist. I was still staring at the 'V' of his hips when I began stammering excuses. I was afraid to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked before I touched one of your guitars. I just - I was looking for the music to the song you wrote me. I didn't find it, but I started looking at all your sheet music, and found these tablatures… and this guitar sounded so beautiful when you played it last night that I just…."

I ran out of words, and breath. In the moments that I had braved a glance at his face, he was giving me a vaguely perturbed look from under knitted brows that made me nervous.

"You told me you didn't know how to play guitar." It wasn't so much an accusation as a question. He looked more confused than anything else.

"I don't, really," I insisted. "I know the basic chords, that's it. I just wanted to see if I remembered them."

Edward's expression remained troubled as he came and sat next to me on the couch.

"Did you really think I'd be angry that you were playing my guitar?" The disappointment in his voice was impossible to miss.

"I hoped not. But musicians can be funny about their instruments. Especially one as nice as this." I removed the guitar from my lap and set it gently on the floor, its neck resting against the sofa between our knees.

Edward reached out one strong, elegant hand to cup my chin and stroke my jaw.

"Anything I have is yours," he said.

Wow. Considering how new our relationship was, that was quite a concession.

"I wish you had told me you could play," he added. I saw the unspoken question in his eyes: _Why did you lie to me?_

"I can't, honestly. I haven't touched a guitar in years. This was the first time since… since my mother died."

Edward released my chin and took my hand instead. "I saw that you had a guitar in your closet," he admitted carefully, his gaze a bit sheepish at my puzzled look. "I actually forgot about it until just now. But when I got up to use the bathroom early that morning, I opened your closet door by mistake," he explained.

I let out a tiny laugh, imagining it. Then I took a deep breath and admitted, "Yeah, I have a guitar. It was my mom's. She taught me to play a little bit, and then I started to take formal lessons. But after the accident, I just couldn't seem to pick it up again. It was too hard. Every time I tried, I just felt… paralyzed."

Edward's thumb stroked my hand reassuringly, his eyes more than sympathetic. They were far too understanding; too knowing. I longed for the day that he would reveal the details of his past to me. Then again, I hadn't fully come clean myself. My eyes fell guiltily to the guitar resting between us.

"So this was a big moment for you, then," Edward said at last, nodding to the instrument.

"Yeah, kind of." I bit my lip, but couldn't stop the satisfied grin that finally stole over my face. "Yeah."

Edward's smile matched my own as he placed his other hand over mine, squeezing it between his. "You don't have to stop on my account. You can play any of my guitars, as long as you want. I can give you lessons, if you'd like. Not that I'm that great a player, but… I'd love to teach you what I know."

Somehow, I had the feeling he'd be teaching me about a lot of things. He had so far. I felt my face grow warm as I remembered the things we'd done last night; the visceral way we had connected. I didn't want that to fade in the pale morning light streaming over us from the nearby window.

"I'd love for you to teach me what you know, Edward." He apprehended my meaning perfectly, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he raised my hand to his lips for a kiss.

"Okay, then. I'll give you some lessons later today," he promised, with a faintly wicked grin. "But I've got to have sustenance first. Are you hungry?"

"Very," I replied truthfully.

"Good, because I'm starving. And I think I actually have breakfast food in the house. In fact, I know I do. Do you cook?" He raised an eyebrow at me hopefully.

I began laughing then. "Yeah, a bit. Do you?"

"Sort of. I suck at it, but I can scramble an egg with the best of 'em."

"You can be my sous-chef then," I told him.

"That means I get to be under you, right?" he grinned rakishly, standing up and pulling gently at my hand.

"No, it means I get to be over you," I replied with a raised eyebrow of my own as I stood next to him.

"I look forward to that vantage point," he smirked. He put his hand on the small of my back to guide me back through the loft. He paused at the bathroom door and inquired, "Are you a brush-your-teeth-before-breakfast kind of girl, or a brush-afterward?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"How soon you want me to kiss you."

His hand promptly steered me to the left and through the bathroom doorway while I giggled in response.

"It just so happens that I have something for you," he informed me. He pulled open the right-hand drawer under the sink and procured an oblong plastic package from its contents. With much pomp and circumstance, he bent the container along its perforation, pulling the top back to reveal the head of a bright pink toothbrush. He waggled his eyebrows as he pulled the brush from its plastic sleeve and presented it to me, a look of great expectation on his face, as though I should be swept away by his generosity.

"For me? You shouldn't have," I exclaimed, playing along. I knew that we were both thinking back to the evening he'd spent at my place.

"I didn't. I just happened to have a spare," he said with lofty nonchalance.

"Did you, now?" I narrowed my eyes as I looked up at him. "Nice try. You had this whole weekend planned, didn't you?" I demanded.

His look of mock innocence was a thing of wonder. "Of course not. I bought this for myself. I just hadn't opened it yet. And now I'm bequeathing it to you," he beamed.

"'Bequeathing?'" I snorted. "Is this a scepter or something? I don't see any crown jewels embedded in it… although it does sparkle," I added as I studied the silver-flecked plastic handle. "Admit it, Edward Cullen. You had very specific plans for this weekend. The fully-stocked refrigerator, the candles everywhere, the spare toothbrush… you were hoping you'd lure me back here after the party last night."

He hid his amusement behind narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a suspicious mind, Ms. Swan?"

"Yes. You did, two weeks ago. And it's a good thing, too, or I might've fallen for this innocent act of yours. You bought this hot-pink, ultra-girly toothbrush especially for me. And the Smithwick's beer, because I mentioned at Billy's a few weeks ago that it was my favorite. You wanted me to spend the night here. And maybe the next day, too," I finished triumphantly.

His slow, crooked grin nearly knocked me off my feet. Good God, but he was gorgeous, smiling down at me like that.

"Are you unhappy that I seduced you and dragged you back to my lair, Miss Swan? Would you like me to take you home now?" Damn. How dare he unleash the Sex Voice on me before breakfast? The bastard didn't play fair.

"Oh, no. You promised me breakfast. And your attempt at cooking is something I wouldn't miss for the world."

"I think I'm offended that you doubt my prowess in the kitchen," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I am a culinary wizard with frozen waffles."

My subsequent giggles subsided when he purposely brushed up against me in order to grab the toothpaste tube off the countertop. He unscrewed the cap and gestured for me to hold up my new toothbrush.

"Ladies first," he said, squirting a glob of neon-blue gel onto my brush. Either there was something absurdly sexual about his actions, or I had just gone off the connotation deep end and everything he did reminded me of sex. I took one glance up into his mischievous eyes and I knew it wasn't just me with a one-track mind.

Edward finally looked away long enough to ready his own toothbrush before re-capping the tube and turning on the faucet. He ran his brush under the water, then looked at me expectantly.

"Has it come to this already? We're going to watch each other brush our teeth? There goes the romance," I teased.

"Bella, I could watch you squeeze pimples and still be completely turned on. Not that you have any pimples," he added quickly. And then, more appreciatively, "Your skin is beautiful. You're beautiful. Now brush your teeth so I can kiss you."

"Bossy," I muttered as I reluctantly obeyed, trying to ignore the inevitable arousal that stirred between my legs when he began ordering me around. It was most disconcerting.

"On the contrary," he argued in between brushing, his mouth oozing white froth. "If I had my way, I would have kissed you long before this. To hell with fresh breath. But I like to make you happy. So I'm brushing." He grinned a toothpaste-filled smile at me in the mirror and I burst into laughter at the sight of it.

"Fine," I relented, putting a lid on my self-consciousness and beginning to scrub my own teeth in earnest. We watched each other in the mirror and giggled like little kids at how silly we looked. Edward made goofy faces just to make me laugh harder until toothpaste dribbled down my face.

Suddenly he grabbed me and pulled me to him, his tongue lapping up the white bubbles from my chin until it reached my lips. He kissed me then, and our tongues swirled in minty, messy circles for a moment. But my irrepressible laughter soon turned to choking, and I had to turn away and spit the toothpaste into the sink. Edward wasn't far behind, laughing and spitting along with me, and it suddenly struck me that this felt like one of the most intimate things we'd done together so far this weekend.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait," he mumbled in between gargling and grinning.

"That's one of my favorite things about you," I told him. I thought back to the dogged way he'd resisted this closeness; how long he'd made me wait before he so much as touched me outside the confines of therapist and patient. How different he was now that the dam had burst. I reveled in these unexpected waves of Edward's affection spilling over me.

We eyed each other sideways as we took turns rinsing and spitting until our mouths were squeaky clean. Edward grabbed a hand towel off of the nearby rack and daintily dried my lips, then wiped the towel quickly over his own. I was still chuckling when his hand closed on the back of my neck and he dove in for another kiss, this one deep and undeniable. My mouth was only too happy to be invaded, launching a half-hearted counter offense; but my body surrendered entirely and sagged against Edward's naked torso. My hands explored the warm flesh of his back, fingers slowly working over every hill and valley of the muscular topography. His arms tightened around me, lifting me off the ground as he kissed me hungrily.

Our kiss might have led us right back to the bedroom, were it not for hungers of a different nature. I soon heard, and felt, the unhappy grumble of Edward's empty stomach pressed against mine, disrupting our kiss with its urgency. My laughter was sympathetic; Edward's, rueful.

"Do you hear that? You wore me out last night," he accused. "I'm gonna have to refuel before we start this up again." He set me back down on the tiled floor and gave me a chaste peck on the lips, smoothing my tangled hair with a sigh before he released me.

"_I_ wore _you_ out? As I recall, you were the one who was relentless," I countered, trying to fight the warmth that crept into my cheeks at the memory.

Edward's hands found the sides of my face and he frowned down at me. "Did I go too far last night?" he whispered, his voice laced with worry. "Tell me the truth."

The truth was, I'd never felt so raw, so sexual, and so utterly, thrillingly alive. I shook my head in reassurance. "You went just far enough."

His features smoothed in relief. "I don't ever want to push you too far," he said soberly.

"Don't worry. If you do, I'll push back."

Edward's answering grin was all I needed. "I'm counting on it."

"All right, then. I'm pushing you into the kitchen now," I announced, placing my palms against the soft skin of his stomach and gently shoving him back toward the bathroom doorway.

"Bossy Bella is back. You know how that turns me on." He gave me a big, leering grin as he gamely stumbled backward through the doorway and into the living room.

"Well then, you ought to have blue balls by the time I'm done making you help me with breakfast."

"Bossy _and_ dirty-talking - you really know how to charm a guy."

"I learned from the master," I replied pointedly, giving him another shove in the pectorals. He let out a guilty chuckle as he let me guide him backward to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area, then around its granite top to the refrigerator. I pushed him playfully aside and opened the door, perusing the contents to see what he'd stocked up on in preparation for my first morning at his place.

"Hmm. Eggs, milk, cheese…spinach, peppers and onions in the crisper," I began. I opened the freezer door and continued my inventory: "Bacon, hash browns; oh, and whaddya know, frozen waffles. That's amazing. You just happen to have all the ingredients to make omelets."

"What are the odds?" Edward's grin was so adorable that I wanted to forget breakfast and eat him instead. "So, do you make omelets?" he added uncertainly.

I practically snorted in response. "If you knew Charlie, you wouldn't even ask such a question."

Edward's face twisted in a scowl. "Who's Charlie? I thought you said your old boyfriend's name was Mike."

My snorts of laughter multiplied as I enjoyed Edward's jealous pout. I finally gave in and admitted, "Charlie is my dad. My dad who lived on frozen pot pies and fried fish before I moved in with him. He was only too happy to let me take over the cooking duties, and his favorite thing in the world was omelets on the weekends. I can fold eggs in my sleep."

Edward's face relaxed into a grin again. "I'd like to meet your dad. Sounds like my kind of guy."

I studied him for a moment, trying to imagining his bohemian good looks juxtaposed with those of my rugged, no-nonsense, mustachioed father. I wasn't so sure Charlie would share Edward's sentiment.

I turned back to the refrigerator and began withdrawing all the needed ingredients for our breakfast, hoping he would drop the issue. No such luck.

"Don't you want me to meet your dad?" Edward asked, sounding mildly offended.

"Well, yeah, sure, someday," I replied, temporarily burying my head in the freezer.

"You don't think he'll like me," he accused.

"That's not it," I hedged as I closed the refrigerator door. I busied myself nosing around Edward's cupboards in search of cooking utensils. He began opening the proper drawers and magically producing skillets, bowls, spatulas, tongs and a whisk. Apparently he knew more about cooking than he let on.

"Then what is it?" he pressed.

"Okay," I sighed. "I don't think you're exactly Dad's… type. But I'm sure he'll eventually love you like I do."

I emitted a tiny gasp when I realized what had just popped out of my mouth. My eyes were rounder than the frying pans on the countertop as I stared up at Edward, frozen. He didn't looked shocked or even very surprised at my words. In fact, it appeared as if he were trying very hard to suppress a grin.

"It's a good thing I'm not dating your dad, then," he replied smoothly, one eyebrow cocked in acknowledgement. His face grew more serious as he bowed his head closer to mine. "I'll consider myself lucky if he loves me half as much as I know my mom loves you."

My insides wobbled like jell-o as if he had actually said those Three Little Words instead of dancing around them. It didn't matter - I knew what he really meant.

"I'm pretty sure he will," I answered. "In fact, I'm certain of it." Edward knew what I meant, too. As always, our eyes spoke much more eloquently than our lips.

"Here," he said at last, his gaze finally shifting to the raw vegetables piled on the nearby countertop. "These aren't going to wash and dice themselves." He quirked an eyebrow at me again before scooping them up and carrying them to the sink.

"I like a sous-chef who takes initiative," I complimented him, a bit relieved that we were settling back into banter. If I was going to tell Edward I loved him, I really didn't want to blurt it out in his kitchen the Morning After, face smeared with leftover eye make-up and hair looking like it had been styled with the egg beater on the counter in front of me.

"I aim to please," he grinned over his shoulder before turning back to his work.

"And you're damned good at it, too," I muttered under my breath as I put a slab of frozen bacon in one of the frying pans and placed it on the stove.

"What's that?" Edward called over the sound of running water and bacon fat sizzling.

"Nothing," I replied innocently. I turned my attention to preparing the eggs, cracking five of them into a mixing bowl and measuring out five tablespoons of milk. I whisked them into a froth while Edward meticulously chopped the vegetables with a butcher knife that could have carved a side of beef with ease.

"How's this?" he queried at last, brandishing his cutting board of crudités cut into symmetrical little squares.

"That's perfect," I replied. I bit my tongue before I added, "like everything else you do."

Edward beamed like I'd just told him he was going to be the next Food Network Star. He watched with fascination as I readied two more frying pans with a dollop of butter, then began separating the bacon with a pair of tongs.

"Are you going to make waffles?" I asked him, hoping he would stop hovering over me like a hawk eyeing its prey.

"Of course," he replied. He yanked open a nearby cabinet door and pulled out a cookie sheet. "I'll even put them in the oven this time instead of the toaster."

"Impressive," I encouraged him with a laugh.

I kept Edward busy with the waffles, then making coffee and getting out plates and silverware for us; but he was back at my side minutes later, peering over my shoulder as I began frying the hash browns and turning the bacon.

"You act like you've never seen anyone cook before," I commented, trying not to sound annoyed. I never realized I was one of those cooks who preferred to be undisturbed until now.

"I never cared to watch anyone cook before. But I like watching you. I'd watch you do anything. Or nothing. Doesn't really matter."

I sighed in defeat as I looked up into those penetrating eyes of his, giving me a look so unnerving that I was ready to let the breakfast burn while I humped him on the kitchen floor instead.

"Edward, you can't say those things to me right now, and stand so close to me, all shirtless and sexy and irresistible. Not if you want any sort of edible breakfast."

He grinned wickedly before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Make me an omelet, Ms. Swan. I'll watch your equally sexy and irresistible self from over here. But you are sadly lacking in the shirtless department."

I silently pointed a spatula at him with a warning look before turning back to the food.

He seated himself on a bar stool several feet away, but I could still feel his eyes on me. I was as hyperaware of his gaze now as I had been the day we met. Maybe even more so, now that he had such intimate knowledge of what lay beneath the thin layers of borrowed clothing covering my body.

He remained quiet as I continued to flip the frying bacon and hash browns, then pour the majority of the egg mixture into the last pan. When I glanced back at him, he was studying me intently. I worked the edges of the solidifying eggs with a spatula, then folded a generous helping of veggies and grated cheese into them at the last minute. I threw in a few spices from Edward's meager assortment, then sprinkled more cheese on top for good measure. I carried the skillet to the bar and gently scooped the omelet onto Edward's plate while he watched me with eager eyes.

"Amazing," he said. "That looks so good."

"Well, hopefully it tastes good, too," I smiled. I drained some bacon briefly on a paper towel before adding it to Edward's plate, along with the hash browns. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and I had to chuckle a little at the sight. I wondered if any of his other girlfriends had ever cooked for him. He certainly acted as if I was the first.

I checked the oven to make sure the waffles were sufficiently browned before serving them up as well. I stole a separate plate for them from the cupboard so the syrup wouldn't get all over the rest of Edward's breakfast.

"Oh shit, I forgot the waffles!" he exclaimed. "I was too busy admiring the artistry of your omelet-making technique."

"Is that so?" I said with a roll of my eyes. "What my sous-chef lacks in follow-through, he more than makes up for in flattery."

"Baby, I'll make it up to you with a lot more than flattery," he promised with an eyebrow waggle at me before his attention went right back to his plate. "Now sit down with me so we can eat."

"No, you go ahead. I need to make my omelet, but it'll only take a minute or two. I heard your stomach earlier. Eat it while it's hot."

He frowned at me, but then dug in. He was soon making ecstatic noises not unlike the ones he'd made last night, which pleased me greatly.

"Oh, my God," Edward exclaimed in between hearty mouthfuls. "This is delicious. Out of this world."

"Good. I'm glad," I answered with a self-satisfied grin as I quickly whipped up an omelet of my own. Edward had half of his plate emptied by the time I sat down next to him at the bar.

"You are an excellent cook," he raved, giving me a gentle nudge with his elbow. "I could get used to this. No wonder this was your dad's favorite."

I could feel my cheeks color as I poured maple syrup on the waffles. I took a bite and returned the compliments. "The waffles are fantastic, too. You outdid yourself, I must say."

"I'm amazed that the oven did me such a favor, since I rarely use it. But the toaster and I are like this." He crossed his first two fingers into a good-luck sign. "Me and the toaster are tight."

"Well then, you'll have to toast the waffles for me next time. I can't wait to see the two of you at work, since you make such a formidable team."

"Nah, that's you and me." He eyed me meaningfully before grinning and shoveling in another forkful of eggs. I thought he was going to make my bashful smile a permanent fixture, until he made it fall agape with his next comment.

"Damn. I'm going to have to marry you so you can make me breakfast like this every day."

I let out an abrupt laugh that was equal parts elation, shock and indignation. How dare he throw around the "M" word like that when he hadn't even truly said the "L" word yet?

I decided to let indignation reign for the moment. "So marriage equals indentured servitude in your book? Good thing I'm finding this out now."

"I wouldn't force you to make me breakfast. I'd just beg and plead until you got tired of listening to me. Or I'd offer other services in exchange." His grin was wicked and irrepressible. It drove me crazy.

"Such as?"

"Free massages…guitar lessons… whatever your heart desires."

"Ooh. I think I'd be getting the better end of the deal there," I insisted. "You have no idea how much I miss your massages," I added with a sigh.

"Yes, I do," he contradicted me quietly. His expression told me he missed them as much as I did.

"I still don't understand why you can't treat me instead of Kate," I complained.

"Don't you like her? She's quite good."

"She's very good. But she's not you."

Edward couldn't fight the slightly smug look that stole across his face. "Tell you what. I'll check you out later and see how you're coming along. I want you to keep improving. If she's not getting the job done, I will."

A tiny shiver danced down my spine at the willful tone of his comment.

"So I get a free massage today?" I was the one who felt like a kid on Christmas morning now.

"You know I can't deny you anything," he said. He leaned over and kissed my cheek tenderly, one hand twirling a lock of my hair before picking up his fork again.

"And you're going to give me guitar lessons, too?" I wasn't sure why I felt the need to pin him down to his promises. If he came through, this could turn out to be the second-best day of my life, after yesterday.

"Of course, I will. I love that you're willing to try again, after all you've been through. And that you'd let me teach you," he added softly.

"Let you? I'd be honored to have you as a teacher." I took a sip of my coffee, then a deep breath. "Maybe I've just been waiting for the right time… the right person… to come along and inspire me again."

His eyes were almost pained as they searched mine. "It's been a long time since I was anyone's inspiration. A positive inspiration, anyway."

I frowned at the thought of Edward ever being a negative influence on anyone. I couldn't imagine such a scenario.

"Anyway, I look forward to it," he smiled, setting down his fork and giving my hair another stroke. "We can get started right away, if you want."

"Okay," I agreed, my heart leaping a bit at the thought of really doing this again - making music. And with Edward, no less.

"But I'd kind of like to take a shower first," he added as he shoved his plate away.

"God, me too," I moaned. "I think you've officially seen me at my worst now - raccoon eyes and bed-head." I pointed ruefully up at the rat's nest falling all around my face.

"I love you with bed-head. You know that," Edward said. My eyes darted to his, studying him to see if he had blurted the "L" word without thinking, or if it was deliberate. The twinkle in his eyes gave me my answer.

"You know what else I'd love?" he continued, his voice taking on that low, velvety quality that never ceased to melt me on the spot.

"What's that?" I managed to squeak.

"I'd love you in my shower with me."

My heart began its now-familiar gallop at the prospect of being close to Edward again, in a whole new way. Mental images of him naked and soapy-wet turned the gallop into a sprint.

"I'd love that too," I murmured, my eyes surely mirroring the smoldering look he was giving me.

Finally Edward let his gaze fall to the plates in front of us. He got up from his stool, gathered all of our dirty dishes and carried them to the sink.

"Let me help," I insisted as I hopped off my bar stool and followed him.

"Forget it. I'll do the dishes later. The chef gets a free pass on clean-up," he smiled.

"In that case, I _will_ cook for you more often."

"That's what I like to hear," he grinned triumphantly. He took my hand and pulled me toward the living room. He stopped short at the sight of our clothes strewn everywhere, looking rather sad and neglected in the harsh, albeit overcast, light of day.

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry about your dress," Edward apologized as we approached the wrinkled pile. He let go of my hand and picked up the garment, gently shaking it out and looking it over. Its wrinkle-resistant jersey knit had fared pretty well after a night on the glossy hardwood.

"I'm the one who dropped it on the floor." I reminded him. I could feel my cheeks redden at the memory, for no good reason. What use was it to be embarrassed now?

"But I told you to," he said guiltily.

"Not true. At no time did the words 'throw your dress on the floor' leave your lips." I bent down and retrieved his pants, giving them a brisk shake before folding them along their pressed seams.

"You are far too forgiving," he insisted. He picked up the torn scrap that used to be my panties and waved them at me as evidence.

"Edward," I said adamantly. "You didn't do anything last night that I didn't want you to."

My favorite slow grin made its appearance. "I know," he said.

He gestured to the bedroom, saying he was going to hang up my dress. I picked up my discarded shoes and followed him. I hung his trousers on a hanger next to my dress in his closet. It gave me a strange thrill to see my small, feminine piece of clothing sandwiched amongst his wardrobe of masculine shirts and pants. His closet smelled like heaven. I hoped my dress would absorb his wonderful scent.

Edward's brows furrowed for a moment; then he abruptly began chuckling.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I just remembered what happened to my shirt last night," he winked. "I'll be right back."

I took the opportunity to use the bathroom quickly while he was retrieving his dress shirt from the music room couch. When I returned to his bedroom, he was tossing the crumpled piece of fabric into a clothes hamper. The shirt was creased nearly beyond recognition. It must have gotten stuffed down into the sofa cushions, because I didn't even remember seeing it when I sat down for my stolen moment with Edward's guitar earlier.

"Oh no," I groaned at the sight of it. "See? I'm as guilty as you of destroying personal property."

He only laughed. "It's salvageable, unlike your panties, I'm afraid."

"I don't suppose that while you were planning this weekend seduction, you happened to pick me up a spare pair of underpants?"

Edward let out a derisive snort. "Hell, no. If I had my way, you'd never have underwear on. In fact, I might declare the loft a panty-free zone. And definitely bra-free." He leered down at my diminutive nipples, which happened to be pointing up at him again from beneath the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"Why stop there?" I retorted. "Why don't I just parade around naked for you all day?"

"Oh, don't tease me like that. That's just cruel."

"Of course, if I have to be naked, so do you."

"I can definitely rise to that challenge," he grinned.

"I'll bet you can." I barely got the words out before he smothered my mouth with a kiss. He lifted me off the floor; my arms and legs quickly wrapped themselves around him, now accustomed to accommodating his body.

He carried me to the bathroom, kissing me in between bursts of laughter as he tried to finagle his way through the doorways without dropping me or whacking my limbs on the door frames. I was still giggling as he set me down, but it halted quickly when he yanked the clothes from my body with two quick, decisive motions. His own sweatpants were around his ankles in seconds, his lengthening dick already beginning to point in my direction.

He moved away long enough to step into the shower and turn the water on to just the right temperature before pulling me inside. And then his arms were around me again, twirling me in and out of the water as he kissed me.

He finally relaxed his grip so that I could sweep the wet hair out of my eyes. I could feel his hungry gaze on me as I leaned my head back, eyes closed, and drenched my hair under the shower head. I returned the favor when he did the same.

His shower was large and lined with some kind of smooth stone-like tile. There was a bench big enough to sit on and various rails to hang onto. My mind began to enumerate the many types of sex that could be had in such a space.

Edward's mind was obviously on the same track. He nuzzled my neck and ran his hands down my body, finally gingerly reaching his fingers between my thighs. "Are you sore today?" he asked.

"A little," I admitted as he stroked the tender flesh. He removed his fingers and kissed me on the temple.

"I'll take it easy on you, then," he said sweetly.

I sighed with a bit of disappointment. "What about you?" I asked, letting my fingers wander over him before wrapping around his growing erection. "Did I chafe you to death last night?"

He only chuckled. "I'll survive. Chafe away."

I stroked him some more, marveling at the mechanics of the male penis. Its sizeable metamorphosis never ceases to amaze me.

"Where's your soap?" I asked, looking around. He had some masculine-named brand of shower gel and a black nylon loofah in a caddy full of accoutrements on the bench. I squeezed a dollop of gel onto the loofah and began to rub Edward's chest with it until it made a soapy lather. I then thoroughly and methodically washed him, head to toe.

He made soft sighing sounds as I worked. I silently studied and memorized every part of his anatomy, every hair and freckle and mole, as my hands and loofah explored while they cleansed. He groaned when I reached his genitals. I ditched the nylon scrubber for a moment and stroked him with soapy hands, reaching every nook and cranny between his legs and buttocks until his erection was nearly complete. I moved blithely down his legs after that, finishing with his feet. He obligingly lifted them one by one as I worked the loofah between his toes and scrubbed the slightly calloused bottoms of his feet.

His eyes were heavy with desire by the time I stood and pushed him under the shower head to rinse the soap from his body.

"You take good care of me," he whispered, his hands cradling my face for a moment.

"You do the same for me," I replied. My eyes roamed down his body, settling over his hard-on again. "I just want to try one thing," I said.

His eyes were curious as I trailed my hand across his abdomen and over his hip, then walked behind him. I ran my hands down the sinews of his back and over the sculpted pale flesh of his backside. I sank to my knees and took in the view of his ass, admiring the look and feel of those two firm scoops of flesh in my hands. No wonder he loved doing this to me. I wanted to return the same pleasure he'd given me.

I kissed and gently bit at the smooth skin of his cheeks; he sighed and put his hand against the shower wall to steady himself. I slowly spread him open and ran my tongue along his sensitive skin, down to the apex of his perineum and his scrotum; then I gently sucked at his testicles until he groaned at the sensation.

I stroked him with one hand then, reaching between his legs to the tip of his throbbing erection and back again. The other hand pulled at one cheek so that I could reach him with my mouth, kissing and licking and tonguing every sensitive part of him I could, including the tight, round flesh of his anus. I was surprised that I was not only willing, but even eager to taste him this way. No part of Edward was repellant to me. And when he cursed and his breathing quickened with pleasure, it was all the reward I needed.

"Turn around," I ordered, just loud enough for him to hear over the running water. He obeyed at once, leaning back against the shower wall to brace himself. I took him between my lips immediately, my hands stroking his body up and down in matching rhythm as I sucked him in and out of my mouth.

"Holy fuck, Bella," he sighed, his eyes dark with lust as they watched me at work. I massaged and stroked him with my hands, tongue and lips until every breath that left his lungs was a gasp or groan. He reached one hand out to grip my face, then clutch a wet hank of hair as he came closer and closer to his release.

"I love making you come," I told him, repeating his earlier sentiment to me. I swirled and pumped the head of his swollen cock rapidly in my fist until his face contorted in ecstasy. He exploded moments later, the warm and creamy liquid splattering my face and neck. I quickly wrapped my mouth around him and sucked him clean as he collapsed against the wall, panting. I felt almost as high as if I had climaxed myself. Having the power to bring him to the brink of sexual rapture, then push him over the edge, was the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

He pulled me to my feet and under the water, washing the evidence of his orgasm from my face. He kissed me over and over, murmuring, "Why is it so good with you? So fucking good…" His words were muffled in my neck then as his lips worked their way south. He finally stopped at the hollow of my throat and announced, "Your turn."

My skin danced with anticipation as Edward readied the loofah with more soap and came at me with a purposeful grin. My sighs matched those of his earlier as he took his time washing me, examining every pore of my body as I had just done to him. My nerves felt as if their raw ends were exposed to every brush of the body sponge and stroke of his fingers behind it. I was practically pulsating with need by the time he reached the nexus of my hip and thigh, working my well-known ticklish spots with his thumbs until I whimpered aloud.

Of course, he didn't stop there. He worked the nylon gently between my legs, then replaced it with his fingers as he soaped me up as thoroughly as I had him. I was halfway to orgasm by the time he stopped and moved down my legs, finishing with a complete scrub of my feet, just as I had done for him.

He pulled me under the water and we both watched as the suds rolled off my body and down the drain. Then he wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear.

"I think you can come for me without any penetration, can't you?" It wasn't a question. It was a directive.

And then he was on his knees before me, and I was the one reaching back for the shower wall behind me. He tongued and fingered the length of my clitoris, gently probing my opening without actually entering. I could feel the blood rushing to my groin, my nerves now crying for mercy as he continued to tickle and stroke them with his tongue and fingers.

I gasped in surprise as he lifted my right leg and let it rest on his shoulder, opening me up to further stimulation from his mouth and hands. I trembled and clutched the wall behind me as his ministrations became rougher and more frantic against my clit.

"God, yes," I blurted, astonished at how much my words sounded like an animal's growl. His answering growl only drove me crazier, his breath hot on my throbbing flesh as he ceaselessly worked me into a frenzy.

I came so hard and fast that I cried out and dug my fingers into Edward's shoulder, my vaginal muscles contracting in wave after wave of inner euphoria as Edward continued to stimulate the outside. His power over my sexual fulfillment stunned me even more than whatever power I had over him. He kissed and stroked me back into a semblance of calm after the quaking of my muscles finally subsided. My fingers wound through the wet curls of his hair as I drank in the unimaginable beauty of him kneeling before me, gently kissing and caressing my body.

_I love you, Edward._

I could feel it bubbling to the surface, ready to break free. I could no longer contain it. But before the words could escape, Edward was on his feet again, pulling me to him and smothering the sentiment with a deep, soulful kiss. Our communion was wordless once again, and I only sighed in a contentment the likes of which I never thought I'd find.

We shampooed and rinsed each other's hair; Edward contemplated taking a razor to his growing beard.

"You hate shaving," I reminded him as I stroked his scruff. "And I kind of like your stubble. It's getting long enough that it's not so scratchy."

"How about I shave you instead?" he offered.

I sat down on the bench and watched with fascination as he coated my legs in shave gel from the caddy, then ruined a perfectly good face razor on my legs. I had to concentrate on quelling the goose bumps that his touch invariably produced, so that I wouldn't end up with razor burn everywhere. He even carefully shaved my underarms when he was through. Once again I was struck by the feeling that this act seemed somehow as intimate as the sex we had just shared.

We were quiet, perhaps a bit spent, as we toweled each other dry. Edward wrapped my hair into a turban atop my head, and I giggled when I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror. Dressed in our bath towels, we made our way back to his bedroom, where he told me to choose whatever I wanted to wear. He gamely let me comb through his dresser drawers, fingering his endless supply of worn tees, shorts and sweatpants. I chose a Jimi Hendrix shirt and sweats, hoping that the guitar muse would wear off on me during my impending lesson. Edward smiled at my selection, like he knew what I was thinking. We were getting better at reading each other's minds, it seemed.

I went to the living room to find my purse and retrieve the small hairbrush I had inside. I checked my phone and saw that I'd received several text messages, all from Angela, wondering where I was and demanding that I let her know I was okay. I guiltily typed a quick message to fill her in, then hit "send." I had been so swept up in Edward's world that I'd forgotten to check in on my own. Soon, I hoped, those worlds would be one and the same.

Edward appeared then, heading for the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.

"You want one?" he asked as he added a little cream and sugar to his cup.

"No thanks," I answered, already feeling a little uneasy about picking up the guitar again, especially in front of Edward. I was sure to feel clumsy and foolish, no matter how understanding he was. I didn't need any more caffeine working on my nerves.

"Are you ready?" His eyes told me that it was okay if I wasn't. And because of that, I was.

After I towel-dried and brushed my damp hair, Edward led me back to the music room, stopping in front of the guitars lined up along the wall. He proceeded to move down the row of cases, opening them one by one so I could inspect them. I remembered the Gibson Dove vividly from the first night I'd ever seen him play. Sandwiched between it and the Martin were a Washburn 12-string acoustic and two classic electrics, a Fender Stratocaster sunburst and a gorgeous Les Paul Custom.

"So which do you want to learn on?" he asked.

"Wow," I answered dumbly, overwhelmed by my choices. "The Strat or Les Paul would be the easiest on my fingers," I joked of the electrics. "But I'd be scared to touch them! The 12-string would kill my fingers. I think I'll try the Martin again."

"Good choice," he agreed, pulling it out of its case and handing it to me. He reached for the Dove again, put the strap around his neck and began tuning it. I sat down on the couch and briefly checked the tuning of the Martin, which still seemed to be fine, or at least good enough for my purposes. Edward seated himself next to me, turning his body toward mine as he tightened a couple of pegs and pulled the strings back in tune.

"Where to start…?" he mused with a smile as he began strumming a basic G chord and its various permutations.

I couldn't stand it anymore. "Play the song you wrote me again," I blurted hopefully.

Edward's cheeks reddened slightly, and I loved that for once he was the bashful one. But he did as I asked, and I lost myself once more in the beautiful, haunted words and his equally affecting delivery of them. I was near tears again by the time he finished.

I held them back this time, though, determined to be more than just a bystander in such an amazing musical expression.

"Teach it to me," I begged him softly when the last chords faded into silence.

And so, he did.

I lost all track of time as Edward patiently walked me through the chords and showed me the proper finger placement to achieve them. He gave me tips on holding the guitar pick and finding the rhythm in my strumming arm, and he even taught me a little finger picking in between. We played until my fingers were sore, and I didn't care. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this absorbed in learning something, or so eager to get it right. I refused to rest until I was able to strum along with Edward, however haltingly, as he played a slowed-down version of his entire _Bella Notte. _He sang along softly, pausing patiently whenever I needed a moment to catch up. I played along doggedly until I had successfully labored through both verses and choruses and actually completed the song with him.

We stared at each other in silence as the last chords reverberated in the air. Edward's smile was enormous, full of pride and joy at my accomplishment.

I took one look at it and burst into tears.

"Bella!" he said in quiet exclamation, putting down his instrument and pulling the Martin off of my lap. He put his arms protectively around me and wiped my tears with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I sniveled. "I'm just so happy. I'm so…." I shook my head, unable to explain. He had no way of knowing just how big this was for me. How tangled up the strings of a guitar had become in the horror of what happened to you, Mom. I couldn't seem to form the words to tell him. I tried to blink back the tears before the emotional dam broke entirely.

"There are certain things I thought I'd never get past," I said at last. "I never thought I could pick up a guitar again. Never thought I'd play a whole song. But you changed all that. You…." I trailed off, at a loss again as I stared into his expectant face. "You have no idea what you've done for me, Edward." I threw my arms around him and buried my face in the warm scruff of his neck while I cried anew.

He rocked me gently and stroked my hair, almost as if he were soothing a child. "I'm happy I could return the favor," he murmured. "You're the best thing to come into my life in such a long time. The best thing to come into my life, ever."

He pulled away from me slightly, his hands on either side of my face as his watery blue-green eyes swallowed mine. He took a deep breath, and then, in a reverent whisper, he said the words.

"I love you, Bella Swan."

Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God. There it was. My heart swelled so full that there was nothing I could do except let the emotion spill over. A fresh fountain of tears streamed down my cheeks as my hands grasped his face.

"I love you, too, Edward. So much. So much."

I kissed him then, and his mouth was as hungry and desperate as mine. Our clothes melted away under the frenzied heat of our grasping hands. He pulled me onto his lap; I spread myself open to take him in. Deep, deeper; nowhere near deep enough. We moved together like dancers, in the slow and sensual rhythm of love. Our thirsty eyes could not get enough of each other; our lips and fingertips could not taste and touch enough. We moved in perfect time together, never quite separating before joining again. Our hips strained to do more than just meet; they ached and yearned to become one being, forged together through his sex in mine. I had never felt less self-conscious in my life as I writhed and undulated over and around Edward with complete abandon. I was conscious only of the feel of him inside me and beneath me and all around me, becoming one with me. Even as our movements intensified and quickened, our bodies straining with passion and need, there was an undeniable beauty to our primal union. We had found where we belonged. And as we reached our pinnacle of sobbing, gasping ecstasy, we were complete.

I don't know how long we sat on the couch afterward, still joined together, inseparable. All I knew was that I had finally let go of the past. There was no more room for it between the two of us. I could feel it recede into the background like the darkness dissipates in the dawn's light. I knew you would not begrudge my letting go. I hung onto the promise of this day, and the next, and the next, as I clung to Edward and stared into the face of my future.

I was wrong. Today was the best day of my life.

* * *

_FFnet's traffic counter isn't working, so I won't know you were here unless you leave a review. No pressure though. ;)_


	27. Profession, part 1

**All the usual gratitude applies-to you, reading this right now, and to Stephenie, for starting it all. Special thanks to my cohort "Kit" for her invaluable input, and my LOTC for bolstering my confidence when it wanes.**

**So without furthur ado... Edward in love.**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Tuesday, August 24**

_I love you, Edward._

The sound of Bella's voice was embedded in my brain while I watched her nap Sunday afternoon. Her confession played over and over in my mind, and every repetition moved me as much the original.

I'm not talking about her second unintended utterance, or even her third tear-filled profession. No, it was the first time, early that morning, that was my mantra. When she thought I was unconscious and couldn't hear. How could she think that I would still slumber when my outstretched arms met only emptiness? I had stirred and awakened the minute she left my bed. I pulled her still-warm pillow to me and pressed my face into her scent as I waited. She must have needed a drink of water, or to use the bathroom. She wouldn't be long.

I dozed, dreaming of her. Dreaming of the things she did to me the night before. The things she let me do to her. The things we did together, joined into one desperate, delirious being.

I heard her feet, faint on the floorboards, as she entered the room. Still heavy with sleep, I waited, and wondered idly why she didn't crawl back into bed.

I heard the quiet click of the shutter then. I wanted to smile at the symmetry of it - my need to capture her last night; her need to capture me this morning. But more than that, I wanted to surprise her and make her laugh. Grab her and tickle her and nuzzle her neck "good-morning" when she was again within my grasp. And so I lay perfectly still, until she came closer.

But there was only silence after the camera caught me. I ached to look at her and answer the puzzle. The indelible image of her burned on the backs of my lids was not enough. Why didn't she come to me?

And then, the still air finally stirred with the whisper of a promise, a declaration, a confession for which no absolution was needed.

_"_I love you, Edward."

How could such a quiet revelation be so profound? Such a softly-spoken assertion carry so much weight? And yet her words pinned me to the bed, sank my limbs like stones, smothered me in their truth.

But I was grateful to my assailant. Bella was now the force that pumped the blood through my veins. She was food and air and water. She was the fulfillment of my restless want; the answer to my insatiable need. And I felt the gravity of that truth with four hoarsely-whispered, heartfelt words.

I wanted to say them back. I needed to. I could feel them wailing insistently for release from behind their barricade of stunned caution.

But I remained inert and silent, fooling no one but her. As her bare feet padded softly out of the room, relief and frustration battled one another within. I stared at the ceiling and deliberated. I could easily pretend I had never heard her confession. I could continue the day as I would with any other girl after a night of mind-blowing sex, politely offering her breakfast and a ride home.

But Bella was not any other girl. And the sex was far beyond mind-blowing. The sex was in a realm I'd never experienced before, and I knew why. It came back to the four little words. Not, _I love you, Edward._

But, _I love you, Bella._

There was no deliberation, really. No decision to be made. The truth was absolute, irrefutable. I would find the right time, and I would profess it to her. I would say it in a way that left no doubt in her mind - or my own - what I felt, what I needed and wanted. I would say it so that I could hear her repeat the words back to me. Look into her eyes while she said them. Be sure that she was as lost and found in me I was in her.

She slipped later on and repeated her admission while talking about her dad, and I was so close to saying it then. But I bided my time, thinking, _I will know when. _

I toyed with the words, not quite saying them in their full meaning, but modifying them to fit our breakfast banter. _I love you with bed-head. _Which really meant, _I love you, period. _We both knew it. But it still wasn't the time.

The music lesson was. I could feel it building inside, building between us, when she begged to learn the song I wrote to express my feelings for her. As I taught her the chords and repeated the words, I was reminded of just how much she had changed my life. This tiny, unassuming girl had possessed my every thought and desire, conscious and unconscious, in the space of a few short weeks. The song was my way of telling her how much that meant to me, as scary and thrilling and wholly unexpected as it was. And now I needed to take that next step and simply tell her, in naked, unadorned words.

She played remarkably well for not having picked up a guitar in so long. I was only shocked for a minute or two when I finally went in search of her earlier and heard the chords wafting down the hallway from the back of the loft. I immediately thought of the guitar case I'd seen hiding in her closet, and I wanted to kick myself and my hangover fog for having forgotten that crucial nugget of information. The explanation of her mild duplicity made perfect sense to me. After all, look at how much I've been withholding from her. Bad memories can cripple even the best of intentions.

When Bella finished the song with me, I was elated. I don't think I've ever been so happy for another human being in my life. I could see and feel how deeply this bit of progress affected her. My gratification over being able to help her achieve this step far surpassed any relief I've ever given a massage client.

I was thrown for a moment by her tears, but soon realized that they were the result of emotions too strong to contain. I could feel my own welling up as I held her; swelling and spilling over. And that's when the words came tumbling out, free at last.

"I love you, Bella Swan."

My own catharsis could not have been much less than her own. I never dreamed what release I would find in just voicing that simple, but essential, sentiment. I am still high from that moment, days later. Not just the knowledge, but the admission, that I love her like I've never loved anyone before. Love her like I'll never love anyone after. Love who we are together. I even love who I am when I'm with her.

I'll never understand all the contrary emotions and desires that seize me when we're together. All I know is that she seems in sync with all of them, and responds to them exactly like I dreamed she would. One minute we're as serious as a heart attack, sharing emotional closeness deeper than anything I've ever experienced. The next we're joking and playing around like kids. And then suddenly I want to take her, possess her, make her bend to my will. Force sexual ecstasy from her. Isn't it wrong to want to dominate the one you love, however briefly? Yet she surrenders so totally and willingly, and seems to enjoy the game so much, that I can't quite feel guilty for playing it.

Maybe it's because she's just as eager to turn the tables on me and be the aggressor. To make me wait and suffer while she taunts me with the promise of that pinnacle of euphoria. She loves to torture me a little, and I love the tease. She broke me like an equestrian breaks a stallion. She was the one who was wild and free as she mounted and rode me after my admission of love Sunday afternoon. I was only too thrilled to meet every forceful buck of her hips with one of my own.

How much she had changed in such a short time. Where was the girl who was so self-conscious about her body, so worried that I would find her lacking in some way? I was not sorry to see her go. I hoped my reassurances and my blatant desire for her were the catalysts for her shedding that skin of insecurity. Her raw, open sensuality now was a thing of wonder and beauty to me. She bobbed atop me in broad daylight with the authority of a lap dancer, her rhythm slow and syrupy and delicious before it quickened with lust.

I could have stared ceaselessly at her body snaking all around me were it not for the distraction of her eyes. I had finally let myself drown in them the night before while slowly but purposefully grinding her body into the cushion of my king-sized bed. I had longed to swim in those depths, to let them surround me. To let her soul envelop mine. And now I did it again; gave in to her freely, eagerly. Allowed myself to see how much she loved me and wanted me. Allowed myself to believe it. Allowed her to see the same in me.

So this is what all the great artists throughout time have attempted to express. What painters try to capture with pigments, and writers with words. This union with another person so complete and life-altering that it begs celebration and veneration. And now I know how hopeless a task this is; but also, how irresistible the attempt.

These were the lofty thoughts I had as I stared into her eyes afterward, spent and pinned in place again by her sensual warmth. We held each other's damp bodies tightly and breathed from each other's lungs. I didn't want her thighs to release me. I was at home inside her and didn't want to let her go.

I had no idea what time it was, but my annoying stomach apparently did. It alerted me to the absence of its lunch just as it had done earlier for breakfast. It clearly had no idea what a mood-breaker it was, nor did it care. Now that other parts of me had been satisfied, it demanded my attention.

Bella giggled at the sound of its gurgling. "I _am_ wearing you out," she grinned.

"I'm glad you don't sound very worried about it," I answered, my arms stubbornly keeping her astride my lap. "I don't feel like letting go of you yet."

She sighed happily and kissed me. That kept my oral fixation satisfied for a good couple of minutes before my gut growled insistently again.

"What time is it, anyway?" she said, prying her lips from mine. "Is it lunch time already?"

"Probably way past it," I begrudgingly admitted.

"You think?" Bella gasped, suddenly looking alarmed. She looked around frantically.

"What's wrong?"

"Where's a clock? Oh shit. How late is it? Oh, shit!"

She pushed impatiently away from me, disentangling herself from my embrace and leaping to the floor. The minute her feet hit the wood, she scurried to the front of the loft.

"Bella, what is it? What's going on?" I called after her. I rose from the couch and stretched my stiff bones a bit before ambling after her. I couldn't imagine what had her so agitated in the middle of a blissful Sunday afternoon.

When I got to the living room, I saw her snatch something from her purse on the sofa before making a beeline to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and was fiddling with a round, plastic container as I approached. I recognized the ubiquitous pill dispenser and my stomach dropped.

I watched her push a tiny pastel-colored pill from its foil pocket and quickly pop it in her mouth before washing it down with several gulps of water. We stared at each other for a moment before I asked the obvious question.

"Was that your birth-control pill?"

She nodded. Her eyes told me that she normally took it earlier than this.

"When do you usually take it?" I asked somewhat moronically.

"Lunch time. Noon-ish."

We both swiveled our necks to the nearby wall clock in unison.

"Three o'clock," I sighed with relief. "That's not so bad. I'm sure you're fine."

She stared at me, unconvinced. "You think so? Doctors always try to scare women into taking it at exactly the same time every day, no exceptions. The pill isn't 100% effective, you know. Do you realize how much sperm you have deposited in my body over the past twenty-four hours?"

I couldn't hold back my laughter at her observation. "Yes, I am fully aware of how many sperm deposits I've made. No birth control is 100% effective. Unless you want me to stop making love to you altogether, of course."

Thankfully, she gave me a look that told me she found that idea unacceptable.

"Don't worry," I assured her, coming closer to take her in my arms. "When was your last period?"

"It just ended a couple of days ago." She looked a little surprised that I might actually know something about menstrual cycles.

"Okay, so you probably won't ovulate for a week yet. You should be good, even if your pill isn't." I gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed the top of her hair before I let her go. When I heard her exaggerated sigh of relief, I couldn't help but add one more comment.

"But if the pill doesn't work, have no fear. If I get you pregnant, I'll just marry you sooner."

She gaped up at me in mild horror for a moment before giving my chest a light shove. "Don't even joke about that."

"I'm not joking. I plan to keep you barefoot, panty-less, braless and pregnant while you cook me three squares a day. Why put off the inevitable? We could just get married now. I'll check the airlines for the next flight to Vegas."

She was already play-hitting me repeatedly by the time I finished. I could barely get the words out through my laughter and her curse-filled protests. I finally grabbed her slap-happy hands in mine and held them behind her back as I pulled her to me.

"Stop pretending you're so offended by the idea. You know you want to."

"You're delusional." She grunted and struggled against me, glaring up at me. I yanked her tighter, pressing her body flush to mine.

"You love me. You want to marry me and have my babies. Admit it."

"No." She appeared to be struggling to maintain her angry expression. She looked like she might laugh instead as she pursed her lips together.

"You can't wait to watch your belly swell up with my spawn."

"Hell, no. I'm too young. I have things I want to accomplish first." She looked like she meant that one, and I didn't doubt it. That was pretty much my sentiment, too; but it was too much fun to tease her.

"'First?'" I repeated. "So you have things you want to accomplish, and _then_ have my babies."

Bella narrowed her eyes at me. "Since when are you so hot to start procreating?"

"Since I started fucking you," I grinned.

"You're disgusting," she declared, struggling to free herself from my grip. I chuckled as I relaxed my hold on her.

"You'd look really cute pregnant," I insisted.

"You only want me pregnant so my tits will get bigger," she grumbled, giving me another half-hearted shove.

"Ooh, I never thought of that. Bonus." I reached for the pill container on the counter as I slyly offered, "Here, Bella, let me put these back in your purse for you."

"Don't you dare! Give me those," she demanded, grabbing for my hand. I held the container out of her reach, passing it from hand to hand as she leapt for it. I knew it was childish, but she looked and felt too good as she lunged her naked body repeatedly against me. She didn't have to play this game of fetch. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Fine. I'll just go renew my prescription," she sniffed, giving up and walking back toward her purse in the living room. I followed her gamely, admiring the saunter of her bare backside.

"Here," I relented, handing her the pills after I caught up to her. "I'm sorry. But you have to admit that I managed to do it."

She looked at me suspiciously as she put the pills back in her handbag, but she took the bait anyway. "Managed to do what?"

"Get you to parade around naked for me."

That brought on another physical assault, which I welcomed with feeble attempts at self-defense and much laughter. She was half-laughing herself as she pummeled me for my crassness and manipulative behavior and whatever other accusations she could come up with.

"That's enough," I finally announced after fighting off her swings for a minute or two. "You've just earned yourself another spanking." I bent down and wrapped my arms around her waist, throwing her over my shoulder as I stood upright. I carried her back to my bedroom while she squealed and beat on my back in mock protest. I was too distracted by the delicious swell of her ass next to my face to care.

When I entered the room, I lowered her to the bed, then quickly sat down next to her and pulled her face-down over my lap before she could get away. She squealed again as I held her struggling torso firmly in one arm while my other hand stroked the smooth skin of her buttocks.

"Such a naughty girl," I murmured before bringing my hand down across her ass. It was a light snap of skin upon skin; just enough to color her cheeks a pale pink. Her accompanying shriek was largely theatrical. I would never dream of hitting or hurting her in any way. But I had always known instinctively that she would enjoy a little slap and tickle. I had tested that theory the night before, and was not surprised that she had responded the way she did. Even if her mind balked at the humiliation, her body embraced it. Her body reacted in ways that her brain could not control or explain. She proved it over and over again when I made love to her. She may not have ever given it much thought, but when it came to sex, Bella Swan liked it a little rough. A little hard. She melted in my arms when I romanced her, but she climaxed from friction and heat and force.

When I slapped her ass just hard enough for the sensations to vibrate through her sex, she gasped and groaned with pleasure. I massaged her cheeks gently before smacking them again, and her back arched in readiness. It drove me wild to watch her get turned on at the touch of my hands, whether it was from a soft caress or a rough touch.

"I think you're enjoying this a little too much," I whispered, kneading each cheek and salivating at the glimpse of what lay between them. I knew I needed to nip this in the bud before I took her again. She had already made love to me on the couch after she told me she was sore today.

"You wish," she snarled indignantly. "Pervert."

"Liar," I retorted smoothly, fingers still caressing her pink backside. "It turns you on. And it definitely turns me on. Which is why we need to stop now, or neither of us will be able to walk tomorrow."

I gently turned her body to face me, pulling her upright on my lap and cradling her in my arms. She gazed up at me, bewildered eyes searching mine as she shook her head slightly.

"How do you do that?" she finally asked quietly. "Your mood swings give me whiplash, but I keep jumping on for the ride."

"Hmm." I brushed my favorite lock of hair away from her face. "Maybe because it's a fun ride. Unpredictable, anyway." I paused while we both smiled at the complexity of our relationship. "I'm not this way with everyone, you know," I added.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me her Mona Lisa smile. "I know. You have no idea how badly I wanted you to be free with me. I guess I should have been careful what I wished for." But her expression held no regret, despite her words.

"Too late now. You're stuck with me."

"You promise?"

God, how I loved her. There were no words strong enough to express it.

I answered simply, "I promise."

And then my stomach added a frustrated growl as a grace note at the end.

"We need to get you some food," Bella laughed. "Good thing you stocked the refrigerator. You knew we'd work up an appetite, didn't you?"

"I hoped. But my wildest dreams didn't even come close to the past twenty-four hours."

"Mine didn't, either," she smiled. I kissed her, but she tasted too good and I had to stop.

"Clothes," I sighed. "I need to be dressed to eat. We need to be dressed the rest of the day or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Bella let out a slightly wicked chuckle. "Our clothes are in the music room. Again," she reminded me.

"There's a reason I suggested we just stay naked. It's easier."

"Maybe next weekend," she suggested. "After I have some recovery time."

I grinned at the thought that this was my life now: weekends with Bella, doing whatever we felt like, whenever we felt like it. And some week nights, too, I hoped. I had always thought I would mourn the loss of my independence should I ever try to have a serious relationship. Now I realized I had it backwards. People get in serious relationships because spending time with one another is the thing they want most, the thing they can't get enough of.

I held her hand as we headed to retrieve our clothes once again, and we helped dress each other. I was amazed at how much contentment I could feel by such simple acts. Bella's irrepressible grin told me she felt the same.

We made sandwiches for lunch, a culinary creation with which I was much more comfortable. We were eating at the bar, immersed in chitchat about our upcoming week, when I heard a muffled but distinctly irritated mewling from outside the loft door.

Bella heard it too, and her eyes popped wide in dismay. "Lucky! He's been outside this whole time!"

I only chuckled as I went to let the cat in. "Don't worry about him. He's an outdoor cat, for the most part. He can subsist just fine on mice in between feedings. He's just annoyed that we've been ignoring him. Right, boy?" I addressed him as I opened the door.

He meowed angrily up at me before rushing into the room and checking his empty dish. Then his meowing turned into plaintive begging.

"Aw, poor baby," Bella sympathized, hopping off her bar stool to go pet him while I opened him a can of tuna. Lucky rubbed himself all over Bella's legs until I went to fill his dish; then his affections switched briefly to me before he buried his nose in the fish.

"Fickle," I insisted with a laugh. "He goes wherever the food is. And occasionally a warm lap."

"Like most males," Bella teased, giving me a sideways look.

I shrugged in agreement. "What can I say? We're simple creatures."

Bella laughed loudly. "Edward, there is nothing simple about you. You are one of the most complicated people I've ever met. I don't know if I'll ever figure you out."

I was a little surprised to hear that. I'd never really given it much thought before.

"Maybe that's why you keep coming back for more," I suggested. "That's how you hooked me. I couldn't quite figure you out, either. But I knew I wanted to, the minute I worked on your back."

She looked as surprised as I had. "What about now? Have you solved my mysteries?"

I gazed into the Hershey's syrup drops and knew that I could never fully know what lay in their depths. But I also knew that I would never tire of trying to find out.

"I think you may have a few surprises in store for me yet," I grinned at last.

"Maybe," she said cryptically. "Maybe my back will tell you something different today."

"I think it might," I agreed. I cleaned up our empty plates and put them in the sink with the other dirty dishes. I decided I'd take care of them after Bella had left, whenever that was. She could stay until Monday morning as far as I was concerned.

"Are you ready to find out?" Bella asked. "Because I am definitely ready for my massage." Her face was bright with anticipation. I actually couldn't wait, either. I missed my favorite patient.

"Let's go," I smiled, leading her back to the bedroom. She began to shamelessly disrobe in front of me, again reminding me how much things had changed since we had first met.

"Damn. I forgot you'll have be naked again," I sighed. "Why must you torment me so?"

She only laughed as she crawled into bed and pulled the sheet over her. "Do you want me face up or face down?"

"What a loaded question." She gave me that look of exasperation again. "Face down," I relented. "I want to work directly on your back. I may just do some Swedish massage today. You might want to put a pillow under your armpits and rest your chin on your hands."

"What exactly is Swedish massage?" she asked, her voice obscured by the pillow as she pulled it under her and situated herself.

"It's more of a relaxation technique. Broad strokes across your back instead of the intensive work in one small area at a time."

"Sounds nice," she commented. "Maybe I can massage you when you're done. Not that I know what I'm doing or anything."

"I don't care if you know what you're doing. There's nothing I love more than your hands on me," I told her.

"Ditto," came her muffled reply as settled her face on the pillow.

I smiled and went to my top dresser drawer to retrieve one of the several massage gels I kept there. It had a faint lavender scent, designed to relax.

I rubbed the gel over my fingers before I put them to her back. She sighed a little as I spread my hands over her shoulder blades, up around her neck, and then down the length of her back to her tailbone. I was amazed at the difference I felt already. Her muscles were much looser now, easier to move and manipulate than they ever had been before. I couldn't help wanting to check the areas I knew were troublesome for her, so I began working more slowly over her neck, shoulder blades and ribs. She had progressed very well under Katrina's care. I could easily manipulate her fascia now and unravel the few twists I found. I could actually feel her spinal issues now, whereas before, her muscles had protected them so insistently that I could only point the problem areas out to Emmett and let him manipulate the bones. Bella still had some misalignment, but my brother had made great progress overall. My beautiful, damaged girl was on the mend.

It was with grateful relief that I worked my way down her back, stretching her where she needed it and then soothing the muscles gently afterward. I knew our sex had been a little rough, and I was worried that I had gotten carried away. I couldn't seem to stop myself when I was inside her, my passion growing into something primal that was nearly beyond my control. I didn't want to be responsible for causing even the smallest impediment to her healing process.

By the time I reached her tailbone, Bella's breathing was slow and rhythmic. I wondered if she had fallen asleep. In any case, she was deeply relaxed. I gingerly examined her trouble spot, and again was amazed at the difference. Emmett had succeeded in aligning her hips and tailbone to a much more normal state, and her muscles had relaxed their stabilizing grip on the bones. I was able to gently smooth the fascia across her lower back, carefully watching her for signs of discomfort, but she remained still. My relief was profound now. She had no way of knowing just how far she had come since the day I first touched her. I knelt and gently kissed the left dimple where her back met her buttocks. I moved my lips to the right to kiss its twin.

Bella sighed softly, and I finished my session with a thorough Swedish rubdown, criss-crossing my hands up and down her back with broad, firm strokes until every muscle was warm and relaxed.

Suddenly I felt a small jostle on the bed. I turned to see Lucky atop the mattress, pussyfooting toward Bella's form with his inquisitive nose pointing the way.

"What was that?" she murmured sleepily.

"It's just Lucky," I told her softly. "Being nosy as usual."

"Cats don't like to be left out," she noted.

He sniffed his way up her body and stood between us for a moment as if to prove her statement.

"I can get rid of him if you want," I offered.

"No, let him stay. He can sleep with me."

"Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap?"

She nodded, the one eye I could see on the side of her face remaining closed.

"You wore me out," she mumbled. I grinned, leaned over and kissed her temple.

"Just so you know, you've made amazing progress," I whispered in her ear. "It's like you're a whole different girl from the one I first worked on."

She smiled but didn't open her eyes. "I am different. You changed me. For the better."

She had no way of knowing what those words meant to me. I was glad she couldn't see me fighting back tears.

"You have the same effect on me," I told her. I pulled the sheet up over her body, and Lucky took the opportunity to plop himself down upon it, right next to Bella's hip. She giggled a little before her face relaxed and her breathing deepened. Lucky put his head down upon his paws and squeezed his eyes shut, apparently deciding that a nap was a good idea, and this was the ideal place to take one.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake. I pulled up a chair and watched them for awhile, thinking. Not thinking. Just drinking in the tranquility. Wondering again how this was my life now. Wondering how it had happened, and in the seeming blink of an eye.

Eventually I heard a faint jangle of Hendrix guitar chords from the living room. _May This Be Love._ _Indeed, it may, _I thought as I rose and crept out of the room to answer my cell phone. It was still on the kitchen counter where I'd tossed it the night before, along with my keys and wallet.

"Is she still there?" My baby sister's excited voice met my ears without preamble.

I tried to keep my laughter quiet. "Yes. She's taking a nap, actually."

"Damn, you're good," Alice giggled. "You can spare me the gory details, though. So things are good between you, huh? No misunderstandings this time?"

"None whatsoever," I smiled. "What about you and Jasper? What happened last night? Generally speaking," I added.

"Generally speaking, we had a fa-a-abulous time. Specifically, I stayed at his place. He just now escorted me to the ferry. He wanted to ride along, but I insisted that he not waste his time. He and the band are rehearsing tonight. I think he's gonna call you about them coming over to the loft sometime this week."

"He's welcome to the space, he knows that," I said. "Oh, man. Now you have to do the walk of shame back to Mom and Dad's. That should be pleasant."

"I know," she groaned. "Whatever. I'm an adult now; they know that. They'll just have to deal. Besides, they love Jasper. Well, Mom does, anyway."

"Dad's going to be wary of anyone who steals away his little girl," I laughed. "Even if it's someone he knows and likes."

"Speaking of whom, how does he like Bella? What was his reaction last night when you were gone for so long? When you missed the auction, Emmett figured he had better go after you before Dad went ballistic."

I sighed in mild irritation. "I'm sure he's fine with Bella. We didn't really get a chance to talk about it. He started in on me about disappointing mom and I kind of lost my cool. Imagine that."

"Oh, Edward," Alice admonished gently. "You've got to get over this beef you have with Dad. You know he just wants what's best for you."

"He wants what's best for me as long as it's in line with what _he_ thinks is best for me."

"He just doesn't want you to sell yourself short," she argued. "He's allowed to disagree with your life choices, you know. He still loves and supports you. You know that."

"Don't start with me, Alice." I could feel my ire growing, and I didn't want it to spoil what had been a perfect day up until now.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "But you're so pig-headed sometimes. Every now and then you need me to point out when you're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable. Okay, fine, you're right," I agreed abruptly. It was the quickest way to get her to get her off of this topic and on to the next.

She sighed again. "I don't want to fight. I actually had an idea that I wanted to run by you."

"Okay, shoot."

"What if we surprise Jasper and his band by inviting a few people over to hang out while they rehearse? You know, you can bring Bella and Emmett can bring Rosalie." It was actually nice to hear her plotting and scheming again. That was the Alice I knew and loved, despite the aggravation.

"Ah, I see. That's quite a stealth operation - not obvious at all. He'll never figure out what you're doing there," I chortled.

"Hey, if he rehearses at your place, you have the right to listen in and bring your girlfriend. And if he invites me along too, we have a right to bring our brother, who then has a right to bring his new girlfriend. It'll simply be a happy coincidence that my brothers' dates work in the music biz. Am I right?"

"Those are a lot of 'rights' you have there. I think you may have just come up with the next amendment to the Constitution."

"Indeed," she agreed, undeterred by my sarcasm. "So how does Wednesday work for you? I'm going to yoga Tuesday night, and I'm dragging Bella with me, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"Christ almighty, Alice - stealing my new girlfriend out from under me already?"

"Aha! I just got you to admit it out loud. It's official, then?" she asked expectantly.

I laughed and shook my head. "Yes, it's official. So I'm officially annoyed with you for butting in on my girlfriend time. But yeah, Wednesday night is fine for rehearsal. I'm not responsible for your scheme backfiring, though. I'll claim to know nothing about it."

"Fine. Coward," she grumbled. "And Bella's my new girlfriend, too, remember. I don't have much time to hang out with you all before I go back to school," she added wistfully.

"I know. It's fine. Bella's really improving, and I think the yoga is good for her. So you have my blessing, though that means nothing to you."

"Of course it does," Alice fibbed. "Oh, we're pulling up to the dock. Wish me luck with the units. I'll talk to you soon."

We said our good-byes and ended the call. I wondered if Jasper knew what he had gotten himself into by dating my sister. The thing is, though, she usually got what she wanted through her wily ways. I had the feeling that Jasper would eventually end up being able to record his music, one way or the other. I could only be happy about that, because his talent deserves to be heard.

I returned to the bedroom to find my girlfriend and my cat consorting most shamelessly in their sleep. Bella had turned onto her back, and Lucky had snuggled up against her side, his head resting on her stomach. Her arm was curled over the cat's body, fingers swallowed in the thick fur of his belly. The bed sheet had gotten pulled down a bit, exposing one of Bella's pink nipples to the cool air. The entire picture was the most beautiful, sexy, adorable thing I'd ever seen.

I captured it on my camera, then sat and looked back through the pictures. There was the one she'd taken of me, right before she told me she loved me. I stared at it a moment, wondering what, exactly, she saw in me. Then I scrolled back to the pictures I'd taken of her the night before, stunning in their stark, simple beauty. Bella was a work of art.

She finally stirred a bit and opened her eyes, her hand lazily stroking Lucky's fur. She looked around slowly, and when she saw me sitting at the side of the bed, she smiled.

"How long have I been asleep?"

I shrugged and glanced at the bed-stand clock. "About an hour, I guess. Maybe more."

"Mmmm. I sleep well in your bed," she said.

"When I'm not in it, anyway," I laughed.

"That's not true," she pouted.

"You tossed and turned all night," I informed her.

"That's only because you're so sexy, you distract me."

"Nice save," I grinned. "It's okay. I don't sleep so well in strange beds, either. I'll make sure I get you home early tonight."

She frowned. "Are you in a hurry to get rid of me?"

"No. God, no. If I had my way, you'd never leave. But I want you to get your rest. Tomorrow's a work day and all."

"Don't remind me," she sighed. "This weekend's been like a fairytale, or a dream. I kind of feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and be turned back into a pumpkin or something."

"I don't think Cinderella turned into a pumpkin. And I'm certainly no prince. But I'm not going anywhere, remember?"

She smiled up at me through her sleepy bedroom eyes. "You are a prince. And don't you dare argue with me about it."

I shook my head in wonder and held my tongue. If she wanted to believe that about me, who was I to fracture that fairytale?

She finally got up, let me help her dress again, and we wandered out to the living room. We watched the news and ordered a pizza for dinner. I filled her in on Alice's plans. Unsurprisingly, Bella was far more interested in getting her boss to hear more of Jasper's music than she was going to yoga class again. But she agreed to humor my baby sister, and me, in the process.

By the time the sun had set, I reluctantly offered to take Bella home. She reluctantly agreed. I was glad that we were on the same page, at least, when it came to being apart. That was a first for me. It seemed silly to be so sad to leave her, when I was sure I could see her the next day if I wanted to. And we already knew we'd see each other on Wednesday, if Alice had anything to say about it. So why was it so hard to kiss her good night at her door and watch her disappear?

I couldn't sleep when I got home. I was as restless in my bed as Bella had been the night before. The cat seemed to sense my unease and curled himself up next to me, but all I could think of was the way he'd curled himself around Bella hours before.

I finally got up, found my phone and sent her a text message. I knew she probably wouldn't see it until morning, but I sent it anyway.

_Can't sleep. The bed's too big without you._

I began humming the identically-titled Police song under my breath as I got myself a glass of water. I was surprised to hear the message alert of my phone go off. I grabbed it and read Bella's return message:

_The cold wind blows right through that open door._

I chuckled in surprise, recognizing the next line of lyrics that came after the ones I had just typed to her. I should have realized that she would know the song, no matter how vintage it was. I quickly typed my reply.

_I knew there was a reason why I love you so much._

Her response was immediate. _I hope that's not the only one._

_No, but the text limit won't let me list them all._

_Funny, mine won't either. So I'll just say I love you. And try to get some sleep._

_What are you doing tonight? _I replied. I imagined her laughter when she read this.

_Making spaghetti and meatballs for Angela. Monday's my night to cook. You want to come over?_

I wished she could see the relieved grin on my face.

_Yes, please. I'll bring the wine._

_Just bring yourself. But a nice Chianti would go well with the Italian, if you're so inclined._

_I'm so inclined I just fell over backward._

_LOL Onto the bed, I hope. _I could practically hear her giggling.

_No, but I'm headed there. I think I'll sleep better now._

_Sweet dreams and Happy Monday._

_It will be now._

Bella answered simply, _XOXOXOXO._

I slept like a baby the rest of the night.

I managed to wake up in a cloud of leftover euphoria from my amazing weekend, and I hummed happily to myself like some moron in a bad romance movie as I showered and dressed for work. And, like the movie moron, I should have known that my bubble of contentment was about to be unceremoniously burst.

And yet I was still blissfully, ignorantly serene as I bought a cup of my favorite Columbian from the usual café, then rounded the corner to the medical complex where the Cullen offices resided. Both Cullen offices. And there, just beating me to the punch, was Carlisle Cullen, unlocking the outside door to the facility.

"Good morning, son," he smiled as I approached. I raised my cup in acknowledgement.

"Hey, Dad," I mumbled. I tried to grab the door for him, but he held it open for me instead. Once inside, I made a beeline for the Cullen and Cullen office door, hoping to get it unlocked before Dad had a chance to corner me. Naturally, I dropped the damned keys on the floor. I made a mad scramble to retrieve them, but was still bent over when I heard the ominous words waft over my backside.

"Edward, I'd like a word with you."


	28. Profession, part 2

**"Nothing much to say I guess, Just the same as all the rest, Been trying to throw your arms around the world..." (Nothing new to say, so I'll let Bono do the talking. ;)**

**Thanks to all the usual suspects. Love you all.**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Tuesday, August 24 (cont'd.)**

I couldn't believe Dad was pulling this crap with me at 7:40 on a Monday morning.

"I've got an appointment coming any minute, so…." I protested, glancing back at him before aiming my retrieved keys for the keyhole.

"This won't take long," he insisted. "Would you please come to my office for just a moment?"

I felt a little like a school kid who was about to get lectured by the principal. It's uncanny how parents can take you right back to the days when you felt defiant for no reason other than you were unable to act on it.

I shrugged and followed him down the hall to his family practice. I greeted the receptionist, Donna, who was always the first one in the building every day and had been since I was old enough to walk. Per usual, she was austerely but impeccably dressed, and gave me a comforting smile as she glanced at me over the top of her glasses.

"Nice to see you, Edward," she said. "Would you like some coffee? It's just finished brewing."

"Thanks, Donna, but I'm good," I told her, raising my café cup in explanation. "It's nice to see you, too."

Dad led the way to his office, then bade me to take a seat. I perched on the edge of one of the modern black leather and chrome chairs that faced his desk, ready to bolt as soon as he finished scolding me once more for not being front and center every minute of the Black and Red Ball.

He surprised me by sitting in the patient chair opposite me rather than his own desk chair. He even turned the chair to face me. It reminded me a little of the time Bella came to see me in my office, and I tried not to think about how disastrous that had turned out. I decided to cut my father off at the pass before he wasted his time and mine.

"Look, Dad, if this is about me disappearing Saturday night, I already told you I'm sorry I missed the auction. I had something I had to take care of. It won't happen again. I'll send an engraved apology to Mom if that will make you feel better."

Dad stared at me in mild shock, clearly taken aback. I guiltily raised my coffee cup to my lips and took momentary solace in the hot, creamy liquid as I sipped it carefully. When my father finally spoke, he was quiet, sounding a bit injured.

"All I wanted was to tell you how happy your mother and I were to see you with Bella Swan the other night. I had the pleasure of speaking with her for a bit, and she's a lovely young woman. You so seldom confide in us anymore… it was quite a surprise to see that you've found someone you obviously care about. A welcome surprise, though. We did wonder why you didn't bring her to the party to begin with, but I suppose that's none of our business."

"You suppose right," I grumbled. I wasn't in the mood to receive his blessing over Bella any more than I had been to hear his rebukes about you, Tanya.

Dad took a deep breath and sighed heavily, brows compressed into well-worn creases. "I wish you could let go of all this anger and resentment you have toward me, Edward. I've been happy to take the brunt of it these past few years so that you'd spare your mother. But the truth is, neither of us ever thought Tanya was right for you. We made no secret of it. And frankly, we were right.

"But we never would have wished the horror of how it ended on either of you - you know that. We had no idea she how ill she was. I can't begin to know what you went through. And if I was too hard on you afterward, not understanding enough… then, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you. I just didn't want you to give up on yourself; on your own life. That's all."

I tried to look into my father's eyes; I knew I should. I knew I would see all of it there: the sorrow, the guilt, the pity, the carefully-concealed judgment.

But I couldn't seem to stop staring at the perfect knot of his navy blue tie instead. It was the only thing keeping me sane and calm and contained. The only thing keeping the tears at bay… that exquisitely symmetrical piece of silk under his clean-shaven neck.

He taught me how to knot a tie like that when I was little. I had been dying to learn how he did it, so he showed me in painstaking detail how to get the knot in just the right place, and how to manipulate the fabric into a pristine triangle. I practiced with one of his old ties in the mirror, obsessed with making it as perfect as he did. I got better and better at it over the years, and by the time I was tie-wearing age, I could make it look almost as neat and crisp as he did.

That was about the time that I rejected wearing ties altogether.

Dad sighed now at my silence. He reached across the space dividing us and put his hand on my shoulder. "I miss you, son. I miss the way things used to be. I guess I'm hoping that if you find happiness with Bella, you'll try to share it with us. At least with your mother. She likes Bella, a lot. She's talking about inviting the two of you over for dinner, along with Emmett and Rosalie, and Alice and Jasper. If she did, would you consider coming?"

At last I raised my eyes to meet his, knowing I would give in to his beseeching look. The realization finally struck me that it wasn't Dad's failed expectations of me that had frustrated me all these years.

It was my own.

I suddenly felt weary of the resentment I'd been carrying around - not just toward the convenient target of my disapproving father, but at the hand Fate had dealt me. Maybe now that Fate had relented and given me the gift of Bella, I'd be ready to let go of old grudges. I knew it would be easier said than done. But this could be a good first step.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sure Bella would love to come to dinner," I told Dad, with a somewhat sheepish smile.

His answering smile was one of relief. "Your mother will be happy to hear that. She loves nothing more than to plan a party, you know. She'll be restless now that the ball is over for another year."

I let out a short laugh and agreed.

"Thanks for listening, Edward," Dad said as he rose from his chair. I followed, still secretly enjoying the fact that I was ever so slightly taller than he was. When I had surpassed his height at sixteen, I remember that was the first time I had truly felt like a man. Now, nine years later, I decided that it was about time I start acting like one.

I looked my father squarely in his pale blue eyes and said, "I'm sorry that I've been behaving like kind of a jackass for awhile now. I know you just wanted what's best for me."

Dad's surprise at my apology was nearly surpassed by his look of contrition. "Yes, but it's up to you to decide what that is. Not me. I never should have judged the decisions you made, and your choice of career, especially in light of the trauma you went through. I just want you to be happy, Edward. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

I nodded in agreement. I was somewhat shocked at his concession, but not at all shocked that when he spoke of my happiness, Bella was the first person to pop into my mind. My love for her had already filled a void that no profession ever could.

Dad leaned in for an awkward hug, which I returned even more awkwardly, trying not to spill coffee down his back.

"I love you, son," he whispered. I fought back those damned tears again.

"Love you too, Dad," I mumbled before ducking out of the room. His expression of grateful relief was still etched in my mind as I hurried back to Cullen and Cullen, PC before my first client arrived. I was amazed at how relieved I was myself to have forged the beginnings of a truce with my father. I felt like I had just learned a valuable lesson in how to get out of my own way.

I met Emmett, who was just arriving, in the hallway. The keys in his hand turned out to be unnecessary, since Jessica had already arrived and unlocked the office for us.

"Damn, did you get called on the carpet already for your transgressions?" my brother asked, nodding his head toward Dad's office door as we entered our own.

"That's what I figured I was in for when he said he wanted to talk to me," I admitted. "Believe it or not, he actually ended up apologizing for the way things went down between us when I quit school."

Emmett's eyebrows raised incredulously. "He seriously said he was sorry for riding your ass about not finishing U-Dub and going on to med school?"

"Well, not in so many words. He'd probably have choked on them if he'd tried to say that. But he did admit that it was my choice to make, not his."

Emmett slapped his hand on my back. "Progress, little brother. Major progress."

I nodded and smiled back at his twinkling blue eyes. He looked about as happy as I did to see a fence mended in our family. He never liked to be in the middle of familial drama, though as the eldest, he often ended up being a mediator of sorts.

"Hey, what are you doing for lunch today?" Emmett asked before we parted ways to head to our respective offices.

I had planned to spend my lunch hour sending dirty text messages to Bella from my usual spot at the corner café, but I kept that to myself.

"Nothing special. What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno. Chinese maybe? It's been awhile since we hung out," he said.

I tried not to eye him suspiciously. I couldn't help but wonder if the Cullen men had concocted some plan to bring the black sheep of the family back to the fold.

"Sure, Chinese sounds good," I agreed amiably. It probably wouldn't hurt to be on better terms with the males of the flock, my brother included. I had the feeling he had a question or two to ask me about Bella. I still wasn't sure what he thought of me dating a former - or current, for him - patient.

I grinned at Jessica with new appreciation as I passed the reception counter.

"How was your weekend, Mr. Cullen?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"It was outstanding, thank you for asking. And how was yours, Ms. Stanley?"

"More fun than the law allows. But I managed to get sprung from the pokey in time to make it to work today," she joked.

"Your dedication is commendable, Ms. Stanley."

"At your service, as always, Mr. Cullen," Jessica teased in a sing-song voice over her shoulder while I walked down the hall.

My first client was a heavy middle-aged woman whose extra weight caused at least half of her problems. I tried to relieve her burdened tissues as much as I could before I sent her to Emmett for the rest of her treatment. I had spent half of her appointment itching to get to my cell phone to text Bella. I didn't know how busy she'd be, or if she'd be able to reply. But at the risk of coming across like a Stage Four Clinger at the onset of our relationship, I typed my first lovesick message of the day at nine a.m.

_How are you this morning? Well rested, I hope. How many hours until dinner tonight? I miss you._

As I stripped the bedding from the massage table, my phone sounded its reply.

_I'm great this morning, except for missing you too. Rose says I'm walking funny, but I think she's just trying to get me to dish the dirt on our weekend. None of her business. Dinner is nine long hours from now. Just come by after work. You can help me cook. ;)_

I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as I typed my reply.

_Walking funny? Well, I did vow to debilitate you by Monday, so now you know I'm a man of my word. I promise I'll be good tonight-hugs and chaste kisses only. I make no promises for the rest of the week, however. Nine hours is torture. But not as much torture as cooking. My contribution is the wine, remember?_

Her reply was swift.

_Ha-wine or whine? I'm putting you to work. Homemade meatballs don't prepare themselves. P.S. Don't be TOO good tonight. _

_I can't help it - I'm always good. But when I'm bad, I'm better. Is it too early for an off-color joke or three about "meatballs?"_

_It's always too early for that._

_Liar. I know exactly what you're thinking about right now._

There was a longer pause after that. I smirked ceaselessly as I made up the massage table for my next client and waited for Bella's reply.

_I give up, you caught me. I was just debating how I should prepare your meatballs tonight. Should I handle your meat gently, or give it a good pounding first? Sometimes it's more satisfying to be a little rough with a good hunk of beef until it eventually becomes nice and tender. Maybe I'll have to give it a taste first before I roll it around in my hands… just to make sure it's not too salty or bitter. Then I have to decide what to do with the balls. Large, medium, small? I tend to be like Goldilocks - I want them juuust right. Just small enough to fit a whole one in my mouth, but big enough to satisfy my taste buds. Your thoughts?_

I gaped at the phone for a moment and wondered how it was possible to love and want this girl more than I did yesterday.

_I have no coherent thoughts left. All the blood has left my brain and rushed to another part of my body. I hope you like sausage meatballs, because I'm bringing a long, stiff roll of it to dinner with me._

_I adore sausage. It's delicious. But it makes me thirsty, so bring a gallon jug of water along, too._

I laughed out loud before replying, then finished preparing for my next appointment.

_Your wish is my command, Princess. The toad's next client has arrived. Dreaming of your transformative kisses…. ~Edward._

I didn't read her reply until an hour later. _A toad? Egad! Indeed, thou art in truth as horny, but thou art far more handsome. Surely thou art at least a frog; neigh, the handsomest frog I have ever encountered in my tiny kingdom. I shall be happy to bestow hundreds of kisses upon thee, caring not one fig if thou art transformed or not. I love thee exactly as I find thee. ~Princess Bella._

I made only one reply the rest of the morning. _Mistress Bella, I am not worthy of your love. But I shall spend the rest of my life attempting to earn it. ~Your Lowly Frog._

I was still smiling over her last message when Emmett and I sat down with heaping platefuls of Chinese lunch buffet at Ching Dow. _There is nothing lowly about you. I hold you in the highest esteem. And you cannot earn that which already belongs to you. ~Your Grateful Mistress._

"You're looking awfully chipper for a Monday," Emmett commented before digging in to his Szechuan beef.

"I'm feeling all right," I said in understatement as I dipped an egg roll in some sweet and sour sauce.

"Good weekend, I presume? Looks like things were going well between you and Bella when you left Saturday night."

"Very well. Pretty spectacular, actually." It was impossible to hide my giddiness. I didn't want to. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this good, deep down in my bones.

Emmett's grin was genuine, the kind that stretched from ear to ear and squeezed his eyes into two tiny glints of blue shining from the middle of his face.

"I'm happy for you, bro. Seriously. I never thought I'd see that spark back in your eyes. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you were like an empty husk for so long. You looked like my brother, but the life was missing. It was like Tanya took your soul with her when she went."

I looked at him, slightly stunned. He'd never said anything like this to me before. He'd always been the strong, protective, supportive brother, no matter what life handed us. He'd never said a disparaging word to me or made a judgment about how I'd handled anything. I was definitely starting to think that he and Dad had made a joint decision to get everything out in the open. I only wondered, why now? Had Bella made that obvious an impact on me? I felt it so strongly inside, I'd be a fool to think it wouldn't show on the outside.

I shook my head and gave Emmett a wry grin. "I wasn't sure I even had a soul after that," I told him. "I certainly didn't listen to it for a long time, anyway. I thought I had it buried pretty well. I guess I just needed to find someone with the patience to dig it up and take the tarnish off of it."

"Nice analogy," Emmett said with a short laugh. "Who knew such a fragile girl could heft a shovel like that?"

My answering chortle was soft. "Bella's not fragile. She's one of the strongest people I know."

Emmett raised an eyebrow, but didn't look surprised. "Rose has only good things to say about her."

"And how is Rosalie, anyway? You seem pretty happy yourself these days."

Emmett shook his head as the same wide grin claimed his face. "I love a girl who keeps me on my toes, I can't deny it. I don't know why. Why do I always get involved with these high-maintenance women, Edward? Shit. I just make so much damned work for myself." But he didn't look like he minded toiling one bit for Rosalie Hale's affections.

"Because you have a blessedly uncomplicated, black and white view of the world, Emmett. A girl like Rosalie is the spice of life for you-she adds the color. And she needs someone like you to cut through all her drama crap and get down to brass tacks. That's why, and how, it works."

My brother let out a loud guffaw. "Very astute observation. Why haven't you ever had that kind of clarity about your own life?"

"No objectivity," I smiled. "But maybe that's changing."

"Well, something is. For the better, I might add."

We ate in silence for a bit. I finally decided to bring up the subject myself and get it over with.

"About my dating Bella," I began. "I was serious when I told you that nothing ever happened during any of our sessions. I made sure that I was completely professional with her at all times. I actually resisted seeing her outside the office for as long as I could, but we kept running into each other. Although, Alice had something to do with that, truth be told."

Emmett only laughed. "I don't doubt it. Any of it. Edward, you act like we just met or something. I remember you when you were in diapers, for chrissakes. Of course I know you'd never do anything inappropriate in our office. It's not in your nature.

"But you must think I'm thick as a brick not to notice what was going on between you and Bella. The writing was pretty much on the wall that first night when she heard you sing at Billy's. I mean, I know I'm no Alice when it comes to sixth senses, but anyone with two functioning eyes could see that you two were inevitable."

Emmett took a sip of green tea, and the demitasse cup was dwarfed absurdly by his large hand. I was too surprised by my brother's words to laugh at the comical sight.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I finally demanded.

"Why didn't you?" he countered. "I kept waiting for the day that you'd confide in me about what was going on. I knew it must be bothering you, treating someone you were attracted to. I know you've always been closer to Alice, and that's fine. But I thought maybe this time you'd come to me, since it was work-related. I mean, don't you think I've ever struggled with the same thing? There have been a couple of patients that I would have loved to ask out, and it killed me not to act on it. I might have been able to help you out. You never know," he shrugged.

He tried to look blasé, but I realized that I'd hurt him with my secrecy. Emmett has always been the quintessential strong, silent type. It's always been easier to talk about things with Alice, especially emotional stuff. I never even realized that our closeness had bothered him. Then again, he never would have let it show.

I shook my head in regret. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you. I should have been upfront about what was going on with me. I guess I was so busy trying to ignore Bella and my feelings for her that talking about them just wasn't an option. Never mind the fact that I was worried you wouldn't approve. After I stopped treating her, I really did mean to come clean with you about everything. I'm sorry that you found out the way you did, Saturday night. That wasn't right."

"Found out? Please," he scoffed. "Like I said, I've known from the get-go what was up with you two. Remember who did the seating arrangement for the Black and Red Ball?" He gave me a wink before taking a hefty bite of spring roll.

A slow grin crept over my face as I thought back to his admission that he'd arranged the seating so that he could be next to Rosalie. I had always assumed that Bella's position across the table from me was a happy coincidence. Now I knew that my brother's scheming was nearly as instrumental as my sister's in getting Bella and me together. Today was certainly turning out to be a day of surprise revelations.

"Thanks," I said at last, a bit sheepishly. "It's a little humiliating to know that I needed this much outside interference from my siblings just to get with a girl. But considering the outcome, I'll deal."

"Hey, that's what big brothers are for. Next time just don't make it so hard for me to impart my infinite wisdom and experience upon you. My ability to keep you from fucking up so royally could save you a lot of time and grief in the future," he grinned impishly.

I balled up my napkin and threw it across the table at him. It bounced harmlessly off of his massive chest.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said with mock sourness. And then, more seriously, "Let me know if I can ever return the favor."

Emmett's grin turned sincere. "I may take you up on that offer sometime."

We finished our meal in easy silence, dotted with small talk about Alice's latest plan to get Jasper's band heard by Rosalie. Emmett said he'd make sure his girlfriend was at my place Wednesday night with bells on.

The afternoon seemed to drag by. It was an effort to concentrate on my clients when my mind kept wandering, revisiting the amazing events of the past forty-eight hours. Connecting with Bella, then re-connecting with my family… it was almost too much to process. I didn't know how to deal with the emptiness of my life being filled to overflowing in so short a time. I felt like I was going to burst at the seams. The minute my last client left for the day, I tore off my lab coat like a mummy coming back to life and stripping its casings away.

"Dinner with Bella?" Jessica guessed with a laugh as I zoomed past her desk.

"And her roommate," I admitted with a twinge of minor disappointment.

"Kinky," Jessica commented with the quirk of an eyebrow.

"Doubtful," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "I'm a one-woman man."

"Lucky Bella," Jessica smiled.

_Lucky me, _I corrected her mentally as I practically sprinted to my car. I made a pit-stop to my favorite liquor store and picked up a nice Chianti, per Bella's request, as well as an excellent Nero d'Avola. I took the stairs two at a time to her upstairs duplex and stood panting, waiting, after I rang the bell. I wondered idly what it was about this girl that had me so anxious to see her again less than twenty-four hours after I'd left her at this very doorstep. I just hoped she was even half as excited to see me.

"Hey, Edward," came Angela's warm greeting as her face appeared on the other side of the screen door. "Come on in. Bella's got her hands in a bowl of raw meat at the moment," she explained with a laugh.

I passed on the crude responses that flitted through my head and merely said "hello" to Angela. She thanked me for the wine, looking over the bottles and raising an eyebrow at me.

"Wow. Pretty nice selections for a Monday evening," she remarked.

"Only the best for the best," I smiled.

"Smooth," Angela said with a laugh. "No wonder Bella has it so bad for you."

I tried to suppress my self-satisfied grin while she motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen. My heart picked up its pace a little when I caught sight of Bella in form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt at the counter, mixing a large chunk of ground meat, breadcrumbs and God knows what else in a bowl with her bare hands.

"Look what Edward brought," Angela exclaimed as she waved the bottles at Bella. She leaned over and whispered what sounded like "Expensive!" in her ear.

Bella raised a chastising eyebrow at me, but her smile was pleased. "Naturally," she whispered back to her roommate.

I wanted to throw my arms around Bella and engulf her in a kiss, but restrained myself in the presence of a third party. Instead, I put my hand lightly on her waist and gave her a soft peck on the cheek.

"Hi, sexy," I murmured in her ear, making sure that Angela couldn't hear.

Her answering blush was warm enough to heat my own cheek as I held my face close to hers. I looked over her shoulder down at the mixing bowl and added, "Be careful there. It's fine to manhandle the meat a little bit, but you don't want to overdo it."

Her blush deepened, as did her grin. "Thanks for the tip. I'll keep that in mind." She glanced up at me, and I felt the familiar bubble encase us for a moment.

Angela busied herself getting wine glasses from the cupboard, looking a little embarrassed. I released Bella's waist and leaned on the counter next to her instead.

"Your roommate gave you away just now," I told her, glancing in Angela's direction with a grin. "She says you have it bad for me."

Angela gave me a look of mock warning, but Bella only laughed.

"I wonder what on earth would make her think such a thing."

"I don't know. I may have to pick her brain later and find out what you've been saying about me."

"Nothing that I haven't said to your face already," Bella replied candidly.

"This seems to be my day for full disclosure," I commented. Bella gave me a quizzical look. "I'll explain later," I told her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Angela struggling with the wine bottle opener. I gave Bella another quick kiss before going to help her roommate.

"Good choice," I said as I took the bottle of Nero d'Avola from her and pulled out the cork.

"I've never had this kind," she replied, holding her glass up so I could pour for her. I filled the bottom of her glass, then the other two on the counter.

"Cheers," Angela smiled, holding up her wine.

"Hey, no fair! I want to be in on the toast," Bella pouted from across the room. She had begun to pat the ground meat concoction into medium-sized balls and place them on a piece of waxed paper.

"Here," I offered, picking up her glass and mine and carrying them to her. Angela followed, then offered a toast again.

"To Bella and Edward, and the end of your failure to communicate," she grinned.

I raised an eyebrow at my new girlfriend. "I guess that answers my question about how much you've told your roommate."

"Just make the toast, will you?" Bella grumbled, scooping up another handful of ground beef.

"I'll definitely toast to that." I clinked my glass and Bella's against Angela's raised one, then held Bella's drink carefully to her lips so that she could have a sip.

"Ooh, that's good," she and Angela said in unison, then started laughing.

"How long have you two been roommates, anyway?" I asked with a smile. I'd had this brand of Nero d'Avola before, but took a good whiff and tasted it to make sure the vintage was decent.

"Uh, since freshman year," Angela answered. "So I guess this is our fifth year, right? Now that we've graduated."

"Angela's been my best friend since I moved to Forks when I was sixteen," Bella said. "And I'm her second-best friend," she added with a laugh.

"That doesn't seem fair," I accused.

"She's referring to my boyfriend, Ben," Angela explained. "I've been dating him almost the entire time I've known Bella. Boyfriends are different than girlfriends, though," she said reproachfully to her roommate. "Two completely different animals. A girl needs a 'bestie' of both sexes, as far as I'm concerned."

"I won't argue with that," I said.

"Me neither," Bella agreed, with a smile at me.

I heard the ring of a phone in the vicinity of the living room. "Speak of the devil. I'm sure that's Ben," Angela said, disappearing to go answer it.

I hoped that Bella would think of me as her best friend some day. I wondered if she already did. I was pretty sure I felt that way about her, though there were still things I balked at telling her. A little part of me was still worried that if she knew everything about me, she wouldn't stick around.

I frowned and pushed that thought to the back of my brain. I refused to let paranoia have the upper hand this evening. I put on a smile instead and asked what I could do to help. Bella was quick to hand me a jar of marinara sauce, claiming she couldn't get the lid off. I removed it easily, then asked what other manly tasks she had for me. She laughed and said there were none, so she begrudgingly let me hover over her while she added a slew of herbs and spices to the sauce and then poured it into a large pan on the stove. I insisted on helping her place the meatballs in the pan one by one. She planned to simmer them slowly in the sauce for awhile, claiming that they would absorb a lot more flavor that way.

"It smells good already," I told her as we washed our hands after handling the raw beef. "You're a great cook. I think I might be in love with you."

"You _might _be? Yesterday you seemed pretty sure." She swatted me on the arm with the hand towel in reprimand.

"Oh, that's right," I replied, slapping my forehead as if it had slipped my mind. "But you didn't agree to marry me. That was the problem."

"You bringing up marriage the day after we got together is the real problem, I think," she retorted with a shake of her head.

"What, you think that's too soon?" I teased.

"Don't you?"

The weird thing was, I didn't anymore. If you'd asked me before I met Bella, I would have had a completely different opinion.

"So you're just killing time with me until someone better comes along?" I needled her.

Her eyes popped open wide in disbelief. "You can't possibly think that."

"What should I think, then?"

She shook her head again. "You are impossible, Edward Cullen. And by the way, you never actually _asked_ me to marry you. You just acted as if it were a given."

"Ah. So it really boils down to semantics, then."

"Ask, and ye shall receive. Demand, and ye shall sit alone, yanking your own chain," she grinned. She pushed past me to get into the refrigerator, then pulled out a couple of packages of fresh pasta and set them on the countertop. I grabbed her from behind and wrapped my arms tightly around her, then put my lips to her ear.

"As I recall, you enjoyed giving in to my demands. And may I remind you that you made a few of your own. It's all about give and take, Princess." I kissed my way down the silky hair at her temple to the smooth skin of her jaw. She sighed softly and I squeezed her closer. "I'm perfectly capable of yanking my own chain, but I like it much better when you do it. And I'm pretty sure you take great pleasure in yanking it for me."

She squirmed a little in my grasp, so I loosened my grip on her just enough for her to turn around to face me. Her arms wound around my neck as she stretched her body upwards.

"I'm all out of witty banter," she sighed, her fingers curling in the hair on the nape of my neck. "I think all the blood has left my brain and rushed to a different part of my body."

"Banter is highly overrated." I finally managed to stop grinning when my lips met hers. My senses were soon overwhelmed by wine and flowers and spice and Bella, the taste and smell of her fused into a heady cocktail that I couldn't get enough of. I don't know how long we kissed, but eventually I was cognizant of a loud throat-clearing noise nearby.

"Don't mind me," Angela said as she scooted past us and grabbed the open wine bottle. "Just getting a refill. Thanks again for bringing this, Edward. I think you've spoiled me for Arbor Mist now, though."

"God, I hope so," I cringed. I reluctantly let go of Bella while Angela refreshed all our glasses.

"So why isn't Ben having dinner with us tonight?" I asked.

"He was here all weekend," Angela answered with a shrug. "The engineering firm where he works is clear across town, nowhere near the accounting firm I work at. We usually spend weekends together, and maybe a night or two during the week. That way we see each other when we want, but I still get to do my own thing, like keep Bella company when she's working nights."

I nodded politely and tried to understand. I couldn't imagine dating Bella for six years without wanting to live with her. I'd only known her for six weeks and I already wanted that. Of course, maybe the newness of our relationship was why I couldn't get enough of her. Maybe after six years, we would reach that comfortable stage where we didn't miss one another when we weren't together. I couldn't fathom it.

My expression must have given me away, because Angela suddenly continued. "You're probably wondering why we don't live together. Well, it's partly because my parents are incredibly old-fashioned. They never would have helped with my tuition if I had lived with my boyfriend during college. But now that I've gone this long without moving in with him, I'm kind of holding out for more. I think if he wants to continue our relationship for the long haul, then he needs to take the next step and make it official."

I nodded, unable to really argue with that. Bella studied us both with interest.

Angela suddenly cringed slightly. "Oh, dear God. It finally happened. I've turned into my mother."

Bella began giggling. Angela ruefully joined her, then admitted, "I guess I'm as old-fashioned as she is."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I happen to be very pro-marriage myself, actually. When you meet the right person, there's no reason not to do it. I'd consider it a privilege to spend my life with the woman I love."

Both girls stared at me like I'd just uttered some pig-Latin that they were desperately trying to decipher.

"Spoken like a guy whose parents are still happily married," Bella said in a stage whisper out of the side of her mouth.

"True," Angela admitted in the same exaggerated whisper. "I think he should be put in a Petri dish and studied. Perhaps he can be replicated in a lab environment so that women everywhere can have a man without commitment phobia."

"Ooh, interesting!" Bella exclaimed. Then her face scrunched into a mask of disapproval as she looked me over. "On second thought, mass production could be a mistake. I think this unique example of the species should be observed first in his natural habitat, to discover if he will actually make these alleged commitments of his own volition."

"In other words, you want to keep him for yourself," Angela accused.

"Damn skippy," Bella said with a grin.

I gave them both my best withering smile. "I'm so glad I could amuse you, ladies."

"We're not amused. We're in awe," Bella insisted.

"Hmm," I mumbled skeptically. Behind all the teasing, I wondered if there wasn't something more to Bella's comment about my happily married parents. Maybe her parents' divorce when she was so young had tainted her opinion of the entire institution. I decided that I had better give the marriage jokes a rest until I figured out exactly where she was coming from on that score.

Angela threw a salad together while I tried to set the table, no mean feat when I didn't know where anything was located in the girls' kitchen. Bella put the pasta on last, and it cooked quickly. By the time we sat down to eat, I was famished. I tried not to inhale my dinner, but Bella's such a phenomenal cook that I can't help but devour every morsel in record time. She seemed pleased that I couldn't stop raving over the meal. She said that if she'd known she could have won me over with food, she would have brought a pie with her to every massage appointment. I told her it was definitely not too late for her to lure me in with homemade pies.

I tried to help Angela wash the dishes afterward, but she shooed me away. Apparently she and Bella have a schedule worked out, and I was not a part of it. When Bella cooks, Angela cleans up afterward, and vice versa.

Bella and I settled on the sofa in front of the TV, flipping channels in search of something that grabbed our attention. She asked me what I had meant earlier when I'd mentioned my day of "full disclosure." I gave her a synopsis of the conversations I'd had with Dad, and then with Emmett. I was still shaking my head in disbelief as I filled her in.

"Wow," she commented when I was done. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you. I know the rift between you and your dad had been bothering you for a long time."

I rubbed my hand up and down her shoulder, grateful for the weight of her head on my chest as she leaned against me. "I finally realized that his disappointment in me was just a mirror, you know? A constant reminder that what was really bothering me was that I had disappointed myself."

Her face was troubled as she looked up at me. "Do you regret not going to med school?"

I let out a long sigh. "Sometimes. But I'm not so sure I would have been any happier as a doctor than a massage therapist. Wealthier, for sure," I admitted with a laugh. I grew sober at my next thought. "But then I never would have met you." I stroked her hair and smiled down at her. "And I wouldn't trade you for all the riches in the world."

"Angela's right. You are smooth," she smiled.

"It's not a line when it's the truth," I corrected her.

Angela joined us in the living room then and brought the wine with her. We polished off both bottles while lounging on the couch, swapping work stories and yelling at some reality TV stars for their moronic behavior. For my part, the yelling was a way of venting after having to hear Bella talk about Jacob Black and his band. I hated hearing about her daily interaction with him, but I didn't want to sound like some jealous control freak. Besides, his behavior toward her had turned a bit frosty after Saturday night. But what bothered me was that it seemed like Jacob's coldness bothered her. I pulled her closer to me, trying to impart enough body heat to take away the chill of her old friend turned foe.

Finally the wine was gone, the reality show ended, and Angela excused herself to get ready for bed.

"I should go," I said reluctantly. I didn't budge so much as a toe, however. I was too content in my drowsy cocoon of wine and Bella's warmth.

"I think you've had too much wine to drive," she protested sleepily. "I think you should stay the night."

"Mmm. Sounds nice. I like your bed. It's cozy."

She snorted softly into my neck. "It's tiny. Your feet hang off the end."

"You noticed?" I smiled. "I don't care. I like to curl up around you instead."

"I noticed that, too." She sighed, her breath warming my jaw. "I like it. Makes me feel safe."

"I'm glad you feel safe with me."

We continued to sprawl, unmoving, for several more minutes.

"So, we should probably brush our teeth and, like, go to bed," Bella finally mumbled.

"Mm-hmm. Do you still have my toothbrush here?"

"Of course. I knew you'd be back."

"You did?"

"I hoped. You had me worried when you ran off that morning, though."

I sighed. "That was a low moment. One I wish I could take back."

She shook her head, her hair tickling my ear. "No regrets. It's a waste of time."

I sighed again, this time in happiness. "Have I told you today that I love you?"

"Yes. Tell me again."

"I love you, Bella Swan."

Her lips curled into a smile next to my Adam's apple. "I love you, Edward Cullen."

It took us another twenty minutes to finally drag ourselves to the bathroom and brush our teeth. We did it together, just like we had the day before. We giggled at each other again, but a little less this time.

Once in her bedroom, I stripped down to my underwear and watched Bella do the same. Her cheeks colored slightly as she took off her bra, and I loved that she was suddenly bashful again, even after the no-holds-barred weekend we'd just had. She quickly opened a dresser drawer and grabbed for a t-shirt, but I reached out to stop her.

"I like the feel of your skin next to mine," I told her. I closed the drawer and pulled her to me, kissing her gently.

"I do too," she sighed. "But no sex tonight. My hoo-ha can't take it."

I chuckled at her choice of words. "I happen to be very fond of your hoo-ha. If it's in need of rest, I am happy to oblige. Well, maybe not happy, but… agreeable."

"My hoo-ha thanks you," she said with a measure of relief.

"Ask it how it feels a few days from now, and it may answer differently."

I cut off her giggles with more kisses and pushed her toward the bed.

"Oh, I think my hoo-ha will still be grateful, but for very different reasons."

"Your hoo-ha knows me well."

I reached down, yanked the covers back and pulled Bella onto the bed with me. We kissed and caressed and crawled our way to the middle of the bed; then we lay still, limbs entwined, breath merged, pillows shared, covers twisted.

I slept like a baby for the third night in a row.


	29. Profession, part 3

**Many thanks to everyone taking time out of their day to read, favorite or review this story. You just made my day.**

**Thanks to Stephenie Meyer for letting me be the puppet master for awhile, even if she doesn't know it.**

**And thanks to Kit for the feedback & typo-catching. (I've changed more stuff, so hopefully I caught my own mistakes afterward. ;)**

**Now, on with our tangled web...**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Tuesday, August 24 (cont'd.)**

"Whoa. Wait just one cotton-pickin' minute," Jasper drawled over the phone. He was born and raised in Texas until he was twelve, and the remnants of his southern accent come to the surface when he's under duress.

"Okay. I've ceased picking cotton. Continue." I like giving him crap about it.

"You're bringing _how_ many people to our rehearsal tomorrow night?"

"Well, I guess seven, if Angela comes and brings her boyfriend, Ben."

"Seven. And one of them is Rosalie Hale?" He said this as if he was about to face a massive jury of his peers, with Rosalie as its ruthless judge. Of course, he may not be too far off the mark there.

"Yeah, but she's coming as Emmett's date. Totally unofficial. I'm sure she's not expecting to hear some polished concert. She probably just wants to hang out and have fun for awhile." I tried to imagine Rosalie relaxing. A "chill" Rosalie was truthfully not something I could picture.

Jasper's sardonic grunt told me he was having the same trouble. "I can't believe Alice didn't tell me this."

"Well, you know how she loves the element of surprise. So act surprised. Pleasantly so. Or my ass is grass."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to disappoint her. Or unleash her wrath upon you, either one. But I'm glad you clued me in so I won't be blind-sided," he said in a grateful tone. One thing my sister apparently hasn't figured out about Jasper is that he can deal with just about anything as long as you prepare him ahead of time. He's all about strategy and planning. Flying by the seat of seat of his pants, not so much.

"I figured you'd appreciate the heads up," I said. "Honestly, you guys are sounding pretty tight these days. Think of this as a test run before you set up some gigs. Rosalie might actually be helpful, you know? Give you some pointers. I mean, assuming you want to make it out of the garage one day."

Jasper let out a wry laugh. "That's the thing. Sometimes I think I don't. Some days I'm perfectly happy being a music teacher by day, amateur folk singer by night. My little pond is comfortable, if limiting."

My own wry laugh joined his. "Well, you know you'll get no argument from me. I've turned playing it safe into an art form the past few years. But maybe it's time for us both to stop doing that, now, before it's too late. We're not getting any younger."

"Feelin' that quarter-century crisis a bit, are you? I told you it would get to you. So what are your plans to break out of the mold? You gonna finish school? Or maybe let Rosalie get an earful of your own music?"

I felt the familiar uneasiness crawl like a spider down my back at the thought. "I don't know. I'm just going one step at a time. Letting Bella into my life was a big enough hurdle for right now."

"Maybe the biggest one, all things considered," Jasper agreed. "The other stuff might seem a lot less daunting now that you've done that. Sounds like things are going well there…?"

My perma-grin took up residence again. "Very well. Too well, maybe. I miss her whenever she's not around, which is ridiculous, because I see her all the time. It freaks me out a little when I think about it."

Jasper let out a low whistle. "You do have it bad. I must admit, I'm not looking forward to your sister going back to school, either. I'm getting used to her making waves in my little pond," he laughed.

"I knew she'd get to you. She has a way of insinuating herself wherever she wants to be. And she clearly wants to be with you. Don't worry, she's not going anywhere. Not in spirit, anyway."

"Yeah, but this long distance thing…I don't know. I've rarely seen it work for anyone."

"It's not that far," I argued. "If I know her, she'll find a way to get back here as often as possible."

"I may have a road trip or two in my future," he said, a bit wistfully. I realized that if he and Alice were even half as serious as I felt about Bella, their upcoming separation would be extremely difficult on both of them.

"You know what they always say. If it's meant to happen, it will happen. Geography won't matter in the long run," I tried to encourage him.

"You're right. I can't worry about that right now, anyway. I have to worry about record execs showing up to one of my lame band rehearsals first."

"Stop," I ordered. "Don't even think that way. You're damned talented and you know it. Hell, Rosalie already heard you jamming with that orchestra the other night. She knows you've got the goods. Now it's time you got your own music heard. It's all good."

"Right. All good," he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself. "Make sure you've got a cooler downstairs because I'm bringing plenty of beer."

"You know it," I laughed. "Don't worry about the beer, I'll stock up. But bring some lawn chairs, if you think about it. I don't know how many old office chairs are still lurking down there, and we're going to need places for everyone to sit."

Jasper agreed to bring chairs along with the band's gear. After we hung up the phone, I went down to the main floor and rounded up as many chairs as I could find and dusted them off. Back upstairs, I pulled out some old blankets to use in case anyone wanted to sit on the floor, then found the Styrofoam cooler I'd used in my college party days and cleaned it out. I figured that the next day I would stop and get ice, beer and snacks for everyone after work, although Bella had insisted she was bringing food during one of our text chats during the day.

I relaxed on the couch in front of the TV, ignoring it in favor of thinking back on my morning. Today had been different than the other two times I'd been lucky enough to wake up and find Bella lying next to me. Today I awakened flat on my back with her curled around me, her arm across my chest, her leg hooked over mine. My chest was her pillow; her hair, my blanket. My hand rested atop her head, holding her close. I lay still for a moment, savoring the sight and feel of her claiming ownership over me. My fingers stroked the silky strands of her hair, tangling and then combing through them. Dawn began to seep in around the edges of her window, giving her ivory skin a celestial glow. I was struck again by the knowledge, deep in my bones, that this was how I wanted every morning of the rest of my life to be.

As the sun rose higher, Bella frowned a little in her sleep, not wanting to wake up. She had told me she wasn't a morning person. But as she stirred and became conscious, her frown dissipated. She squeezed me closer and a smile lifted the corners of her lips. Her hand roamed my chest now, thumb rubbing my nipple, which only made my morning wood harden further. When her eyes opened, they looked upward immediately in search of mine. They were a mirror of my own conviction that this was the future I wanted; an assurance that she wanted it, too.

We said very little. Soft, gentle kisses and touches were our language in the early morning light. Finally Bella suggested that we shower before Angela got up. I followed her to the bathroom and waited while the water warmed in the old-fashioned shower. I peeled her underwear carefully from her and tossed them on the hamper lid nearby; she did the same for me, releasing the stiff evidence of my desire for her. She smiled as she ran her hand over the length of it, then grasped it gently and stroked it up and down.

My breathing was quick and shallow by the time we stepped into the antique porcelain tub and under the stream of hot water. Our shower was a strange water dance again, filled with kisses and caresses amidst soapsuds and scrubbing. My erection was throbbing for release within minutes, and Bella's busy hands were my relief. As I came closer to erupting, she surprised me by sitting on the edge of the tub and taking me in her mouth, licking me up and down and swirling her tongue around me until I thought I would pass out from the exquisite torture. Instead I came, right on her tongue, while she lapped at my pulsating cock. I shuddered at the sight and sensation of her wet, pink mouth working me while my cum dripped down her chin. My fingers were buried in the soaked strands of her hair, massaging her scalp as I came down from my insane high.

"You amaze me," I sighed as I pulled her up from her perch and swirled her under the water, rinsing her face. "I know you don't like doing that."

She wiped the water from her eyes and scowled up at me. "I love doing that. Don't you ever doubt it." She reached up and wrapped her arms around me, pulling at my neck so that I would bend my ear to hers. "Breakfast of champions," she whispered with a giggle.

"Hmm. I'm feeling a bit hungry myself," I murmured as I hugged her tightly to me. I worked my way down her body with my mouth then, tasting every bit of her satin skin, lingering on her tight, pink nipples as my hands roamed her nether regions. She sighed with pleasure as I took a seat on the tub myself, pulling her left leg gently upward and positioning her foot on the porcelain next to my thigh.

I took my fill of her sweet pussy then, gently licking and probing with my tongue and fingers until she was panting and whimpering softly. I was again aware of the need to be quiet, stifling my own moans as I tasted her delicious flesh. I buried my face in the heady, hot scent of her sex and tongued her deep inside, over and over, until she dug her fingernails into my shoulders and sobbed softly. My hands grasped her hips, fingers pushing into the firm cheeks of her ass and holding her steady as she shook from the force of her climax. Her fingers wound through my hair, clutching my face to her groin, and I reveled in the captivity. I didn't want to stop devouring her, stop teasing that swollen mound and the bright pink opening behind it.

So I didn't stop. I continued to plumb her depths relentlessly with my tongue until she came again, her moans louder and more uncontrollable this time. At last she collapsed against the wall behind her, the shower curtain making a soft rustle under her meager weight. I relinquished her slowly, unwilling to let go of her. She was my drug, and as soon as I came down from one fix, I wanted another. Thankfully she seemed as reluctant to pull away from me as I was her. We lingered under the hot water, bodies pressed together, until we finally heard a rap at the door. Angela was afraid she would be late for work, and were we about done?

I hated rinsing Bella's perfume from my face; hated brushing her taste from my mouth. I wondered if she felt anything like that about me. The intensity of my longing scared me a little. I was quiet again after we brushed our teeth and dressed. Bella didn't have time to fix me breakfast, and I hadn't expected her to. I needed to run home and put on fresh clothes anyway, so I grabbed a fast-food breakfast burrito on the way to work.

We text-messaged all day long. Silly, inconsequential things.

_What are you doing for lunch?_

_Corner café per usual. You?_

_Rosalie ordered in from the Thai place down the street. Wish our offices weren't so far apart._

_Me too. I'd rather have more of what I had for breakfast. Breakfast of champions, indeed._

_Seems like that was more of an appetizer. I think I'll be ready for the main course again soon._

_You have no idea how excited I am to hear that. I'm pretty sure I'll be starving by tomorrow night. How early can you be at the loft?_

_I can't. It's Angela's turn to cook and Ben's coming over. He wants to be our designated driver so we can eat, drink and be merry at your place. ;) Besides, I have to make my famous seven-layer dip. You won't want to miss that._

_I'm sure I'll love your seven-layer dip. I look forward to all of your layers, especially removing them. I just don't know if I can wait until the end of the evening._

_Well, you'll have to. I'm not into public performances. I doubt you are, either._

_I'll leave that to Jasper. But if he takes his clothes off, he's outta there._

Bella answered with an "LOL" and we returned to our jobs. Now I get to sit here and try not to imagine her at yoga class tonight with Alice. If I picture her in any sort of gymnastic positions, I'll end up spending the evening jacking off like I did every day before we started dating. I'd rather skip the solo missions and wait for the real thing.

The cat is perched next to me on the sofa, eyeing me like I'm a pathetic chump again.

"Nope. Just pussy-whipped," I told him, giving him a scratch under the chin. "Surely that's something you can understand."

His eyes squeezed shut in sage acknowledgement.

* * *

**Friday, August 27**

Time is running out for me, Tanya. I'm going to have to tell Bella everything.

I don't know why I didn't do it last night. I should have. It was the perfect time, after she finally came clean with me. Her soul is completely open to me now; her perceived blemishes all out in light. Her pain, her guilt, her horror. I am humbled that she finally bared it to me, let me share in it, let me try to soothe it. I always sensed she would understand about us, and now I know it with absolute certainty.

But I freeze in terror every time I attempt to say the words. It feels like I'm about to pour poison on a beautiful flower. Like my past will cast a shadow so dark that it will swallow the light of my relationship with her. And I need that light. I need it desperately. I can't afford to lose sight of it, or worse yet, put it out.

And so I bide my time, bite my tongue, hold in my own pain and guilt and horror. Wondering how long I can keep up the charade.

I don't know whether I want to clobber Rosalie Hale or thank her for being the catalyst that finally broke down Bella's last walls of secrecy. I am a hypocrite of the worst kind for loving the closeness that it brought between Bella and me, when I'm still struggling through my own defenses just to reach her. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around everything that's happened the past forty-eight hours.

Wednesday night went off without a hitch, or so I thought. Jasper's band was a bit nervous at first, but they had warmed up and relaxed a little by the time my brother arrived with Rosalie on his arm. Jasper introduced her to bassist Hank and drummer Stew, then once again tried to describe the eclectic mix of musical styles they had co-opted into their own unique sound.

"Don't worry about trying to pigeon-hole yourself into a genre," she told them. "Just let the music do the talking. It'll speak for you."

I raised an eyebrow at Emmett after hearing Rosalie spout those little pearls of wisdom. His proud, "that's my girl" grin told me all I needed to know about their relationship.

Alice had ensconced herself in a chair not far from the band, and the rest of us paired up in a semi-circle around her: Rosalie and Emmett, Angela and Ben, Bella and me. Behind us I'd pulled up an old desk and covered it with an array of snacks, Bella's seven-layer bean dip at its center. That and the cooler of beer below kept us wandering back and forth during the impromptu concert, and a low buzz of chatter filled the room while the band worked out difficult passages of music. When they finally succeeded in plowing through a song to the finish, everyone cheered wildly. The atmosphere was fun and laid-back, and Rosalie was surprisingly relaxed. Her demeanor now compared to the first time I'd laid eyes on her was like night and day.

"Do you think Rosalie likes what she hears?" I asked Bella, figuring she could read her mercurial boss better than I could.

"I think so. Hard to say. Jasper's band is still a little rough, but the potential is obvious. She's probably making furious mental notes under that smiling exterior," she laughed.

"I figured as much." I let my attention linger on Bella then, her nearness a distraction that only grew more pronounced as the evening went on. By the time she bent over the cooler and pronounced it empty, the sight of her ass in those tight jeans she always wears was too much to take.

"I have more beer upstairs in the refrigerator," I announced, getting up and grabbing Bella's hand. "Why don't you come help me with it?"

I was already leading her to the service elevator by the time she replied, "Sure."

We avoided each other's gaze as we waited for the doors to open. The minute they closed behind us, I attacked her.

More accurately, we attacked each other. It's just that I got to her first, and I had her pinned to the wall in seconds. Our kisses were desperate, almost crazed, like we'd been separated for weeks instead of a day and a half. By the time we were in my apartment, I had her t-shirt thrown to the floor and was working on the hooks of her bra.

"We can't do this now!" she hissed, her voice low even though no one could possibly hear us two floors down.

"Oh, yes, we can," I insisted. The bra hooks came open and I pulled the offending contraption from her body. "We can and we will."

I captured one breast in my mouth and the other in my hand while she pushed feebly against me.

"No. Everyone will know," she protested. "We can't be gone that long."

"Then you'll have to come fast," I mumbled before sucking her nipple into a raised, pink ridge.

"This is crazy," she said, her tone beginning to show signs of succumbing. Still, she twisted against me and turned in an attempt to head for the refrigerator. I held her fast, pressing her back against my torso. I leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"You make me crazy. You like making me crazy. I can't wait anymore. And I don't think you want me to."

I steered her back toward the living room in the direction of the couch, all the while kissing my way down her neck and shoulder. When we reached the sofa, I slid my hands down her belly to the closure of her jeans. I unbuttoned and unzipped them, then yanked at the fabric. It stuck stubbornly to the sides of her hips.

"Why do you always wear such tight pants?" I complained, trying to pull them down without hurting her.

"Look what they do to you," she pointed out in reply.

"Fuck," I grunted, giving them a final tug over her backside. They finally freed her gorgeous ass from their constraints, taking her underwear with them. I ran my hands over the smooth, round flesh and groaned at how good it felt under my fingers. I moved my hands to the front, down her stomach, between her legs. Her back arched and her head fell back, letting my fingers probe the slickness between her thighs.

"God, how I want you," I sighed into her hair. I could feel the need to possess her seize me again like it did the first time I took her in my living room. My voice was nothing but a hollow rasp when I made my demand.

"Get on your knees."

I heard her breath catch; watched her back expand with oxygen before it collapsed and let the air shakily escape. My hands were on her shoulders, pushing her slowly downward, facing the couch. I gazed down at her naked body leaning over the sofa cushion, ass pushed back, waiting for me. I was half-mad with desire as tore my t-shirt over my head and let my cargo shorts drop to the floor. I straddled her legs with my own and sank to my knees behind her. I ran my hands up and down her arched back and over her hips; then I grasped her cheeks, pulling them open. The jeans binding her at the knees wouldn't let her legs spread more than a few inches apart, and I couldn't wait to feel the resulting friction when I pushed inside her.

I fingered her opening again, amazed at the amount of cream I found there. She was as turned on by this as I was. I groaned, grasped my cock and slid the head between her tight cheeks, seeking her wet heat. She pushed back against me and we both moaned loudly as I filled her. Had it only been a few days? It seemed like it had been years since I felt those silky ridges surround me, engulf me, taunt me to press further inside. She was insanely tight with her thighs pressed together, and each thrust into her flesh forced a sigh of ecstasy from my lips.

Bella wasn't quiet either, her soft cries and murmurs spurring me on, her body pushing rhythmically against me, eager to take me in. She looked over her shoulder at me, at our bodies coming together, before stretching her hands out to grab the back of the sofa cushion beneath her. I leaned over her and splayed my hands over hers, clutching her fingers between mine, pushing my body against her as I drove in deeper.

"How fast can you come, Bella?" I whispered in her ear as I picked up the pace. "If you come now, they might not know what we're doing. Not for sure. They might think we're just making out a little."

"Yeah, right," she managed to gasp over her shoulder.

"But if you take a little longer, then they might wonder. They'll know something's going on," I taunted her between thrusts. "Maybe you're giving me a hand job. Maybe I'm eating you out again like I did yesterday morning."

She moaned again at my dirty talk. I plunged faster, more recklessly, letting the couch cushion beneath her absorb the shock of my body slamming into hers. I continued like this for a minute or two longer, sensing we were both close, but still holding out. The knowledge that we were already busted was somehow insanely titillating; the thrill of the illicit encouraging us to prolong the moment.

"Now it's too late," I whispered between ragged breaths as I pounded her mercilessly. "There's no doubt in anyone's mind that my dick is inside you right now, fucking the hell out of you. They're just desperately trying not to picture it. But they won't be able to ignore the glow on your face when we go back downstairs."

"You're such a bastard," she growled, her words muffled by the sofa cushion.

"And you love me for it," I insisted, high on the absolute knowledge that it was true. "You love me and you're going to come for me."

I removed one of my hands from hers and slid it around her hip, over her belly and between her legs. I worked her clitoris in time with my thrusts, and her answering cries of pleasure were more than I could take. I came, hard, exploding like a firecracker, overwhelmed again at how amazing it felt to lose myself so deep within her. When she climaxed a moment later, she milked the last dregs of cum from me with a force that took my breath away. I collapsed on top of her, relishing the feel of our damp skin pressed together, her long hair silken against my face. I covered her with tiny kisses. The faint salt of her skin was delicious to me, better than anything I'd tasted all day. I didn't care if we ever went downstairs. Our friends and family could entertain themselves, as far as I was concerned.

Her breathing calmed and she stirred beneath me, pushing against me. I slowly raised myself from her and pulled out, hating the moment as I always did. I continued to massage and kiss her back, her neck, her shoulders as she lifted herself up off the couch. I slid my arms gently around her and sighed contentedly into hair.

"Why do I let you do these things to me?" she asked softly, rhetorically. But I attempted to answer anyway.

"Because you like them. Because you want me to."

She shook her head, but the movement was weak, barely perceptible. "_Why_ do I want you to? That's what I keep trying to figure out," she sighed.

I stood and pulled her up, turning her toward me. My hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. I looked into her eyes and tried to give her the answer wordlessly, but her gaze was still clouded, perturbed.

"Bella, from what I know about you, you've spent most of your life trying to be strong and capable and in control. I know how exhausting that can be. It feels good to let go of the reins once in awhile and let someone else take them. Someone you trust. Someone you love."

Her eyes brightened; her lips stretched into my favorite smile. "You're just saying that so I'll let you ride me more often."

I chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. "It's worked so far. But I don't mind you taking charge every now and then. You know I like it when you tell me what to do."

"Then put on your clothes and get me a comb. I'm going to be embarrassed as hell when we go back downstairs."

"You look gorgeous," I told her, smoothing her wild tangles with my hands. "You're all flushed. I told you, you can't hide that fresh-fucked look."

"Remind me again why I let you near me?" she groused as she began looking around for her clothes.

I leaned in and whispered the words straight into her ear. "Because I give you incredible orgasms."

"Oh, that's right," she said in mock forgetfulness.

We dressed quickly and I went to the kitchen to get the beer out of the refrigerator. The wall clock there told me we hadn't actually been gone that long.

"I think we may have set a record for world's fastest quickie," I told Bella as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. "Normally that's not exactly something I'd be proud of. But I guarantee you I will take my time and savor round two later on."

"What makes you think there will be a round two?" she challenged me.

"Because I promise to play nice. But I don't expect you to. In fact, I prefer that you didn't."

The provocative look she gave me was almost enough to make me hard again already.

"Don't tell me what you're thinking, or we won't be going back downstairs at all," I warned her. She grinned impishly and went to the bathroom in search of a comb.

By the time we were ensconced in the service elevator again, we were both appropriately dressed and groomed in our best attempt to disguise our inappropriate behavior. Bella looked increasingly nervous as the elevator neared the ground floor.

"Don't worry," I tried to assure her. "You look beautiful. Glowing."

She responded with a slight sneer. I smiled sweetly and leaned in to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead right before the elevator door opened. Bella headed straight for the cooler with her six-packs of imports, and I followed with a couple of cases of domestic. The band had decided to take a break, and had joined their audience in sprawling atop blankets spread over the old hardwood floors. The guys began hooting and clapping when they caught sight of us bringing the beverages.

"It's about time. When you left to get beer, I thought you went upstairs to get it, not Pioneer Square," Emmett ribbed us, getting up off the floor to help me with the cases.

"Sorry," I apologized rather insincerely. "I had to feed the cat."

Snorts and titters traveled the room, and Bella's face went from pink to scarlet. She quickly bent over the cooler, her hair hiding her embarrassment, and deposited the beer bottles two at a time into the ice.

"'Feeding the cat.' Is that what they're calling it these days?" Jasper razzed me as he and my sister approached. He took a Heineken out of my hand and added, "I'll have that, thanks." He grabbed another from the cooler and handed it to Alice, who gave me her best Cheshire cat grin.

I refrained from making an obvious crude reply, but could not entirely stifle my smirk, even when Bella shot me a look of complete consternation. I leaned down to help her unload the beers, then pulled her aside for a moment.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," I told her in a hushed voice. "I'm not ashamed that I love you and want you as much as I do. I don't care who knows it. Especially when these are friends and family who want us to be happy."

She looked up at me in dismay. "I'm not ashamed of you, or us." She grabbed my hands in hers and squeezed them tightly.

"Then kiss me," I whispered softly.

Her eyes said everything I wanted to hear as she tilted her face up to mine. "So bossy," she murmured before her lips touched mine.

"Get a room!" Emmett bellowed from the blanket where he now lay, propped up on one elbow. Rosalie lounged on the floor in front of him, her head resting on his stomach.

"They already did," she grinned, giving Bella a wink.

Bella's blush was less severe this time, and she hid her face against my chest instead of under her own hair. I rested my chin on top of her head and rocked her gently in my arms. It was one of those rare, perfect moments when I knew what real happiness was.

I grabbed a couple of beers for the two of us, then we joined Angela and her boyfriend on the floor. Ben, Hank and Stew were having a techie discussion about what kind of amps and sound effects the band was using; Angela was politely pretending to give a damn. She looked grateful for our intervention.

"So Edward, are you gonna join us for a couple of numbers?" Stew asked. "We could use a little doo-wop in the background. Makes Jasper sound like a real singer," he kidded.

"I heard that," came Jasper's reply from across the room. Seconds later, an empty beer can from his vicinity sailed through the air and landed square on the top of Stew's shaggy blond hair. The room erupted into laughter and shouts of "Nice shot!"

I took a surreptitious glance at Rosalie, who was snuggling with my brother and looking fairly unthreatening at the moment. I was feeling a little brave and crazy anyway. Who cared if she did hear me? It wasn't like it would amount to anything. I decided I should get over myself and the idea that she'd even want to badger me into recording for Java Noise.

"Yeah, I'll sit in if you want," I told Stew. "Not sure Jasper will have me, though, after that crack you just made."

"I'll think about it," came his voice from two blankets away.

"The guy's got bionic hearing," Hank laughed.

"Comes from teaching high schoolers all day. If you don't pay attention, you're dead meat," Jazz intoned ominously.

That led to a discussion of possible names for the band that related to Jasper's profession. Detention, Home Room, The Grade, The Tutors, Skip Day and Honor Roll all got bandied about. Finally the guys ditched making a decision in favor of playing some more, and this time I borrowed one of Jasper's guitars and joined them.

We did a few covers that I knew first; then I tried to play by ear and throw in some vocal harmonies on several of the band's original numbers. We didn't sound too bad for a bunch of semi-drunken amateurs jamming in an abandoned textile mill. We had fun, at any rate, and our equally inebriated audience was highly appreciative. A couple of times I caught Rosalie watching me like a hawk, her face seemingly relaxed but her eyes sharp and calculating. I ignored her and kept on doing what I love. I was in too good a mood to worry about what she was thinking.

By eleven o'clock we decided that we really should have done this on a weekend instead of a work night, because everyone was reluctant to leave. The band packed up their gear while the rest of us folded blankets and cleaned up the remnants of the snacks.

I cornered Bella and whispered, "You're staying the night here, aren't you?"

"Are you asking?" she countered.

"Yes, I'm asking. I've been told that demands will result in my chain-yanking privileges being withheld."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for bossy rock stars," she murmured in a sexy voice.

"Wow. My first groupie. Hot," I replied with a sly grin.

"You have no idea." The seductive look she gave me made me dispatch our guests and haul our leftover beer and food back upstairs in record time.

This time, Bella was the one tearing at my clothes, shoving me toward the bedroom. The hungry look in her eyes fueled my desire like nothing I'd ever known before. I lay back in grateful ecstasy as she pushed me down on the bed and crawled all over me, kissing and nipping and clawing her fingers up and down my body. By the time she straddled me and lowered herself onto my rock-hard dick, it was all I could do not to come right away. The sight of her grinding and dancing atop me as she took me inside her again and again was the most jaw-droppingly sexy thing I had ever seen. It wasn't just the sensual movement of her body that did me in. It was the emotion in her eyes. So deep, so full of desire, so beyond desire. Her eyes made love to me with as much fervor as her body did. I only hoped that I was rising to the occasion in every way, giving back what she gave to me, letting her know how much this connection meant to me; how much she meant to me.

"I love you" never seemed like enough. There should be stronger, better words to describe something so intense and all-consuming. I could only hope that where words fell short, actions would speak for me.

I lost track of how long we made love. It seemed to go on all night, in fits and starts, from position to position, climax to climax, as we christened every corner of my king-sized bed.

We were sound asleep with exhaustion when my alarm clock went off yesterday morning. I begged Bella to play hooky. I had Thursday afternoon off per usual, and only three appointments booked for the morning. I was ready to reschedule them if Bella played along.

I wished to God she had. If she had just spent the day at my place, then I would have missed Rosalie's phone call to my office at 9 a.m., wondering if I could stop by Java Noise to speak with her during lunch. She acted coy and evasive when I wanted to know what this visit was regarding. Then she asked me not to mention it to Bella, because it was a "surprise."

All morning long, I couldn't shake the feeling that Rosalie Hale was about to remind me why I hate surprises.

The reception area of Java Noise was small but comfortable, decorated in soothing earth tones and cozy furniture. I was unable to relax in the overstuffed chairs, however, as I braced myself for whatever Rosalie was about to spring on me.

I heard the staccato clip-clop of her heels long before I ever saw her. By the time she entered the carpeted reception room, I was already on my feet in uneasy anticipation.

"Hi, Edward," she smiled. "I'm so glad you could come. I just have a little something I want to discuss with you. Actually, it's more of a puzzle that I think you might be able to help me solve."

She motioned for me to follow her back down the hallway. We passed several offices whose glass walls revealed their occupants to my inquisitive eyes, but Bella did not inhabit any of them.

"I'm not sure what kind of puzzle I'd be any good at helping you with," I said warily as we turned a corner and entered a more remote part of the building. The doors were few and far between now, with no windows to clue me in to what lay beyond.

"Here," Rosalie smiled when she reached the last entrance on the right before the corridor veered off yet again. She opened the door and said, "You'll soon find out."

She flipped several switches on the wall and fluorescence filled the room as we entered. We were surrounded by sound engineering equipment-microphones, recording devices, processors, equalizers, stacks of speakers. I looked around, perplexed at what we could possibly be doing here, unless Rosalie was about to surprise me with some sort of news about Jasper's band.

"Nice, isn't it?" she asked with a bright grin. It was the sort of grin that was a little too wide, a little too tight around the edges. My wariness grew as I waited for her to continue. "I mean, it's small, but it gets the job done. We do lots of pre-recording and dubbing here. We farm out the work for our bigger acts to recording studios. But an artist just starting out, like the Wolf Pack, or say, Jasper's band, would do some recording right here in-house."

So this _was_ about Jasper's band. I couldn't quite breathe a sigh of relief yet, though. Rosalie's forced cheer was belied by the icy glint in her eyes. Something was very wrong here.

"Why did you ask me to come here, Rosalie?" I asked point blank. "If this is about signing Jasper's band, you should probably go straight to them, don't you think?"

"Well, that's the thing I wanted to talk to you about. Jasper's band has a lot of potential. The guy's got a quirky music sensibility about him, and he's definitely got some guitar chops. His rhythm section is solid. But you know what really got my attention last night?"

I played along against my better judgment. "What's that?"

"When you joined them," she said flatly. Her smile faded slightly. "A three-piece band is a hard thing to pull off well. The Police did it back in the day, but let's be honest, they had more talent and skill between the three of them than most five-piece bands do. Most trios really benefit from a good rhythm player and backing vocalist. If Jasper's band had that, I might be interested. No, make that, I'd definitely be interested."

Her gaze was as pointed as her words. There was no mistaking what she was getting at.

"So basically you're telling me that you'd sign Jasper's band if I was part of the deal." I could feel my hackles rising slightly at the insinuation that my friend and his band-mates couldn't make it without me. Not to mention the fact that she was trying to coerce me into commercializing my only real emotional outlet.

Rosalie raised one elegantly sculpted brow. "Why beat around the bush? The whole combo came to life the minute you stepped in. It's obvious to me where the real draw is out of the four of you. I heard that piano tune you wrote for Bella, so I know you've got the talent. Why aren't you pursuing it? You could take his band in a whole different direction. I got the impression that you were holding back last night, singing back-up. I'll bet what I saw was only the tip of the iceberg."

Her eyes were sharp, almost accusing. I sighed and repeated my usual spiel. "I think you overestimate my talents, first of all. And second, I'm not at all interested in pursuing a music career. It's strictly a hobby for me. A personal one, at that. I have no desire to sell my soul to the public for money. Not that I have any delusions they'd be buying."

Rosalie let out a snide laugh. "Oh, they'd be buying, all right. I'm not overestimating anything."

With a grimly triumphant smile, she leaned over the soundboard and flipped a couple of switches. The speaker stacks popped to life, and the room was soon filled with sound. The first thing I heard was an acoustic guitar strumming a mournful but impassioned rhythm. It took a few seconds before the music's familiarity struck me like a two-by-four between the eyes. I stared, stunned, at the control panel while a singer's raspy wail joined its guitar counterpart, then soared over it, taking flight. The lyrics spoke of pain, of suffering, of guilt and regret. The voice was rife with emotion, raw and pushed to the point of breaking. I continued to gape at the recording equipment as if the singer would materialize from it like a genie from a bottle. But that was ridiculous. The singer was already here.

The singer was me.

My lips moved imperceptibly, mouthing the words. _Lost in a sea of red. _Impossible. Rosalie Hale couldn't possibly have this in her possession. Not this song. Your song. The song I only sang once in public. The song I never want to sing again.

"How did you get this?" My words were so faint, they could not be heard above the din of my own pain as it rattled the walls of the studio. But as soon as I uttered them, the answer hit me far more brutally than any two-by-four ever could. It split me right down the middle this time, eviscerating me, gutting me.

_Bella._

I was too sick inside to be relieved when the music stopped. Apparently Rosalie had seen my lips moving and wondered what I had said. I couldn't repeat it. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't move. I was trying to process the fact that Bella had recorded me and never told me about it. And now Rosalie had the proof. Surely Bella couldn't have given this song to her boss. She wouldn't do that to me.

"This is you, isn't it?" Rosalie demanded. She sounded small, muffled, after the loud volume of my own personal hell had stopped reverberating around the room. I was still unable to respond. Apparently she didn't actually require a response, because she continued on full-bore without me.

"I know it's you. Don't bother denying it. Call me crazy, but when I thought back to Saturday night, and then last night, I started putting two and two together. At the Black and Red Ball, Alice asked if you were going to sing. You said you weren't sure. And then, after you dedicated a song to Bella that you wrote for her, you played some instrumental version, which I thought was odd. It was structured exactly like a traditional pop song would be, so I don't believe for a minute that there aren't some lyrics floating around your loft for that thing. It was almost like you didn't want anyone to hear you sing. Or maybe it was just Bella's bosses that you were trying to keep that little talent from."

I could barely comprehend her tirade. What the hell was she getting at? Bella's apparent betrayal of my trust was all I could think about. It simply couldn't be true.

I glanced at Rosalie long enough to see her impatience at my lack of reaction, and then my eyes fell again.

"And then came last night's band rehearsal. Nobody there seemed one bit surprised when you joined in and unleashed that crazy-good voice of yours. You stole the show instantly, and yet everyone was completely blasé about it, like they'd seen it all before. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I couldn't help but think that there was some big conspiracy going on that I was deliberately being left out of. I was pretty damned upset with Emmett for never once mentioning that his little brother possessed such talent, when I spend most of my waking hours in search of people who are half as charismatic a performer as you are.

"Not only that, Bella didn't seem surprised, either. That's when I realized that she must have seen you perform before. I started wondering how long ago that was. How long was she keeping you under my radar? And more importantly, why? Why the hell would she keep a talent like yours quiet? A talent that could really advance her in this business?

"I couldn't figure it out. I barely slept last night, thinking about all of this. Wondering what the hell was going on. I'm not proud of it, but I came in early this morning and snooped. I combed Bella's desk for some evidence. And what do you know?"

She stopped for a moment, and I heard a faint mechanical noise. I managed to focus on her again, long enough to see her pull a memory stick out of a USB port. She waved it at me, grinning bitterly.

"A whole CD's worth of songs that sound suspiciously like the guy I heard backing Jasper Whitlock's band last night," she clarified through gritted teeth, apparently irritated with my stupefied expression. "Song after song after song. Originals, covers, duets with Jasper. All by Bella's new boyfriend, of all people. Here she is, sitting on a potential goldmine for our company, and she doesn't say one Goddamned word about it to me." She paused, ostensibly for dramatic effect. "Now, tell me, Edward. What the hell am I supposed to think about all of this?"

I stared at her blankly. I was still trying to absorb the fact that Bella had recorded me not once, but several times, without my knowledge or permission. At least she hadn't willingly given the songs to Rosalie. I couldn't believe that she would betray me like that. But she did keep it from me all this time. Why? To what end? I hated being suspicious of her. And I hated Rosalie for sending my thoughts in that direction.

As for the latter's suspicions, I couldn't make heads or tails of them. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to process everything she had just told me. I finally shook my head and simply asked her, "What exactly are you accusing us of?"

She glared at me as if I were the most annoying simpleton she'd ever met. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you? In this day and age, it's easy for any Joe-Blow off the street to decide to start his-or _her_-own record label. Computer technology has completely changed the music business over the last decade. It's harder than ever for traditional record companies to show a profit; easier than ever for upstarts to try to do it themselves. With Bella's training and connections, and your talent… again, what am I supposed to think?"

Her meaning was clear enough now. My hackles were far more than raised as I stared at her in disbelief. "You seriously think that Bella is about to mutiny and start her own company? You can't honestly believe that she would betray you like that. She's loyal to you to a fault, though right about now, I can't possibly imagine why. You certainly don't deserve it," I spat. I was practically seething with outrage at the woman my brother deigned to call his girlfriend.

"Do you think I want to believe such a thing about her? About either of you? Bella's been like a little sister to me. I've mentored her and trusted her with everything I know about this business. But it's the only reason I can come up with for her cloak and dagger act. I don't even want to approach her about this unless I know I have good reason to. If I'm way off-base, I'd love to know it right now. That's why I asked you here. So enlighten me, Edward. Why has everyone been hiding your light under a bushel for so long?"

I was certain I was visibly shaking by then. I could feel my limbs quake with anger as I tried desperately to control my voice. "Because I asked them to. I meant it when I said I want nothing to do with recording or selling a single note of my music. Not for myself, not for my family, not even for Bella; and most certainly not for you. If you want someone to blame for missing out on another precious acquisition for your company, then you don't have to look any further than across this room. My music isn't for sale. _I'm_ not for sale. Try to wrap your mercenary mind around that if you can, and leave Bella out of this."

Rosalie opened her mouth in rebuttal, but I cut her off before she had the chance. "I'm going to pretend that this conversation never happened. I'm not going to tell Bella how quick you were to distrust her and assume the worst about her. Not because I give a damn about keeping your miserable secrets, but because I wouldn't want to hurt her like that. But if you ever give her a reason to doubt your faith in her, I'll tell her everything so fast it will make your head spin like a top."

With that, I was out the door before I had to hear one more word from her wretched lips.

My mind was in turmoil as I marched back toward the front of the building. Rosalie Hale was some piece of work, making groundless accusations like that, especially behind Bella's back. Instead of confronting her employee with her concerns, she took the coward's way out and ferreted the information from of me instead. What the hell did Emmett see in such a conniving shrew of a woman? I wondered if I should tell him what she'd been up to. I had the feeling that if I waited long enough, she'd eventually hang herself without any assistance from me.

The truth was, I really didn't give a damn about Rosalie one way or the other. But I cared deeply about what all of this meant for Bella and me. I couldn't understand why she would keep her recordings of me a secret. What was she planning to do with them? Why would she leave them lying around where her boss could come across them? I realized that my performances were all public ones, and that anyone with a camera phone could have captured them and stuck them on Youtube for all I knew. I had no right to feel like my privacy was invaded. I surrendered it every time I took to a stage with a guitar in my hand.

So why did this feel underhanded, somehow? Because the recordings had been obtained by the person I now trusted like I'd trusted no other? I had no legitimate reason to feel deceived. And even if I did, it was certainly just retribution for all the lies of omission I've told her, and continue to tell her, every day that I leave you out of the equation.

I was so lost in my own chaotic thoughts that I nearly knocked down the first person I ran into when I got to the lobby.

"Sorry," I apologized absent-mindedly as I pushed past him.

"Christ almighty, Cullen, where's the fire?"

I started at the familiar voice, then blinked and tried to focus on the dark, deep-set eyes of Jacob Black. I had no idea how to reply. Like Rosalie, he seemed to require no response.

"If you're looking for Bella, she's right behind me. We just got back from lunch. She's feeding the parking meter, if you want to wait."

He obviously enjoyed letting me know he had just taken my girlfriend out to eat. If he only knew how badly I wanted to punch someone, anyone, at that moment, he would have kept his Goddamned mouth shut.

"Edward!" came a softer, gentler exclamation from the direction of the door. I turned my irritated gaze toward Bella and tried to compose myself. "What are you doing here? Were we supposed to meet for lunch?" She looked confused.

I heard the words tumble like ice cubes from my lips. "Clearly you already had other plans."

Her forehead scrunched in worry; the ubiquitous tiny line formed down the bridge of her nose.

"We were working and we got hungry, so we went to the Turkish place. It was totally spur of the moment. Did I miss a text from you or something? I would have waited if I'd known you wanted to take me to lunch."

I heard a faint coughing noise to my left. "See you later, Bells," Jacob mumbled, giving her a smile. His smile soured as he glanced at me before taking off down the hall.

"I was here to see Rosalie, actually. She had some questions for me about Jasper's band, so I stopped by on my way home for the afternoon. It was spur of the moment, too." I tried to keep my voice even. I wasn't sure why I was feeling annoyed. I only knew I needed some time alone to collect my thoughts before I talked to Bella again.

She shook her head. She knew me too well. "You're lying to me. What's going on?" Her voice was tense.

I forced my lips into a smile. "I'm not lying. We were talking shop for a bit, that's all. Why don't you go back to work, and I'll talk to you tonight." I reached out to briefly touch her face, then turned to go.

She grabbed my arm to stop me. "Edward, what's wrong? What did she say to you?" The worry line was etched even more deeply between her eyes.

I released my frozen grin long enough to lean in and give her a peck on the forehead. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't keep the chill from my voice. "Nothing's wrong, Bella. I just have a few things on my mind. Everything's fine. I'll talk to you later."

"Edward…." Her anxious voice trailed off as I gently pulled my arm from her grip and headed for the front door.

The maelstrom in my head continued the entire drive home. I wasn't even sure what my problem was. I was incensed at what Rosalie had pulled, but I couldn't figure out why I was upset with Bella. She probably routinely recorded the musicians she went to see, so that she could listen to them again, and turn them over to Rosalie if they were any good. I should have been thrilled that Bella had kept the recordings of me to herself.

Maybe it was because she had _that_ song. Because she had evidence of the brutal catharsis I had gone through that night; because that was her first impression of me, so soon after we met. What if she had listened to it over and over? Reliving my second-hand pain; trying to dissect my demons? I remembered how utterly raw and exposed I had felt when I discovered that she had seen that side of me. How petrified I was to ever show her that much vulnerability again.

And I hadn't. Not really. Not like that. Maybe that's what was bothering me. The fact that even though I had come so far since that night, I was still holding back. Still keeping things from her. And the fact that she had hidden that recording from me only made the knot of unease tighten in my gut.

What else was she keeping from me? And why couldn't I come clean with her?

By the time I reached the old mill, the weather had worsened to match my mood. The omnipresent bank of clouds overhead finally released their heavy burden, pelting fat drops of moisture on the pavement as I parked the car. I looked around for the cat, wondering if he would want to come inside. The weather had been nice and I'd left him outside when I went to work that morning.

"Here, Lucky!" I called, my voice echoing down the street and bouncing off the brick buildings. I repeated the call a couple more times for good measure, then unlocked the side door of the mill.

What happened then took only a few seconds, but they were the longest seconds of my life. I wasn't sure which I saw first: Lucky, running across the street toward me; or Bella's ancient red truck, barreling around the corner. My eyes somehow took them in simultaneously, even though they were coming from opposite directions. Perhaps it only seemed that way because the two converged in my line of vision in one swift, horrifying moment.

The screech of slamming brakes and squealing tires pierced the air. Bella barely missed Lucky, who streaked past her right front tire by the narrowest of margins before reaching the door behind me. But my sigh of relief was cut short at the sight of the rusted vehicle losing control on the newly wet pavement. It whipped sharply to the left and spun in a semi-circle across both lanes before skidding to a stop, mere inches from the cars parked on the other side of the road. Miraculously, there had been no on-coming traffic. Bella's truck now sat in the left lane, facing the proper direction, as if she had been driving that way all along.

My heart was pounding as I raced across the street toward the truck. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I raised wild eyes to the car window, trying to get Bella's attention through the glass. She sat still as a stone. Her face was frozen in terror, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.

"Bella! Open the door!" I yelled, pounding on the metal with my fists. I tried the handle again, yanking on it like I might be able pry it open with my bare hands. My tone was even more desperate this time. "Are you all right? Open the door, Bella! Let me in!"

Her frightened eyes finally seemed to register my frantic attempts to reach her. She raised a shaking hand to the door lock inside. As soon as I heard it release, I ripped the door open and leaned into the cab, throwing my arms around her.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I felt icy fingers clutch at me, heard sobbing breaths on my neck. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Her voice shook with fear as she pulled back and fixed me with a petrified gaze. "Is he dead?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Who, Lucky? No! He's fine. You missed him. He's at the front door, see?" I nodded over my shoulder to the building behind me. Bella's face collapsed in relief, and then the tears began to roll down her cheeks. "He's fine, baby. He's got nine lives, remember?" I assured her, pulling her close again and rocking her in my arms. "I'm only worried about you. Let's get you out of this truck so I can check you over, okay?"

She gripped me more tightly, sobs wracking her body. I was scared to death that she had hurt her back again and was unable to tell me. She clearly was in a bit of shock. I soothed her with soft words and caresses and kisses, trying to calm her and get her out of the vehicle. But for some reason, she was inconsolable. Her crying only worsened, and was soon verging on hysteria.

"You're scaring me, Bella," I told her. I closed my hands tightly on her arms and shook her slightly, desperate to get her to pay attention to me before she went off the deep end. "If you're hurt, you have to tell me where. You have to tell me what's wrong. Bella… please."

Her tear-streaked eyes finally snapped into focus as they found mine. Her lips trembled violently; her words came out in broken, jagged sobs.

"I killed her, Edward. I killed my mother."


	30. Confession, part 1

**All the usual thanks apply, to my wonderful readers and to the original Twilight author. I owe you all a big debt of gratitude. You make writing fun.**

**Special thanks for Moron for her Super-Human proofreading talents, not to mention some mighty fine advice that has talked me down from the ledge more than once.**

**Without further ado, an explanation of what the heck just happened...**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Saturday, August 26**

I held the oversized mug of peppermint tea close to my face, deeply inhaling its contents. The warm, menthol vapors helped clear my head. I stared into the placid amber sea for a moment, then studied the tiny waves that broke its calm when I blew lightly across the surface. Just holding the cup of tea was soothing beyond measure. It was much easier to look at than Edward's eyes... those anxious, sad, baffled eyes whose questions I now needed to find the courage to answer.

I sat rigidly in the middle of his couch, wrapped in a beautiful heirloom patchwork quilt, though it wasn't cold. He probably thought I was in shock, since his first instinct was to wrap me up like a mummy as soon as he managed to get me indoors. I wondered if his grandmother or great-grandmother had made this quilt. I would have to remember to ask him about that later.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," I said at last. My voice was thick and nasal from crying. I could imagine how awful I must look; how puffy and bloodshot my eyes must be. I couldn't think about that or I wouldn't be able to face his flawless beauty and continue.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me," he murmured in that amazing velvet tone of his. "I'm only worried about you. I just want to make sure you're okay."

He sat close to me, his body turned toward me, one hand rhythmically stroking my hair. Petting me like he would the cat. I glanced across the room and felt another wave of relief wash over me at the sight of Lucky devouring some smelly tuna out of his bowl. If I had hit him - if I had so much as given him a scratch….

No, I definitely couldn't think about that. I had escaped the unthinkable this time. I hung onto that knowledge, let it buoy me, so that I'd have the strength to keep paddling. I was amazed at how quickly the abyss had reappeared, ready to swallow me whole, the minute my truck spun out on the wet pavement. I knew that if I could just get the words out now, that undertow of futile terror would lose its pull, and Edward would be my lifesaver.

I looked into his eyes then. Looked past the worry and confusion to find my anchor. Whatever anger he must have felt when he found out I'd recorded him seemed to have been forgotten, at least for now. I knew his arms would be my safe harbor when my difficult journey was done.

"I will be okay," I told him. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or convince myself. But once I said the words aloud, I began to believe them. His fingers warmed my scalp as he ran them through my hair; slow, soothing strokes. I took a sip of the tea and enjoyed the heat that bathed my mouth and cleared my throat.

"I was driving the car that day," I began. I glanced up at Edward to make sure he understood what day I was talking about. Of course, he did. He remembered my story about the accident, I was sure. At least, the vague, blameless version I'd told him the day we first got to know each other. Now it was time for the unvarnished truth.

"I had just turned sixteen and gotten my license. Renee - my mom - was as excited about it as I was, I think. She was like a little kid that way. She would get so wound up and giddy over things. She had so much joy in life." I took another sip of tea to dissolve the lump forming in my throat.

"Anyway, she always teased me about having to haul me everywhere, and said she would be so glad when I got my license. She was just kidding around, of course. She liked to do things for me whenever she could. She wasn't much of a cook or housekeeper, so I usually picked up the slack there. But she was great at other things - creative things. She built me a big doll house when I was little, with furniture made out of old spools and margarine containers and stuff. She used to sew little outfits for my dolls, too. She took me to dance lessons, and taught me how to ride a bike."

I paused for another sip of tea; another hit of courage. Edward sat patiently, fingers still combing my hair, until I continued. "She had just started to teach me to play her old guitar. She wasn't all that great at it, but she knew the basics and showed them to me. So, for my sixteenth birthday, she bought me lessons with a professional guitarist. And, of course, she was as excited about them as I was. In fact, she had decided that she wanted to sit in on my first lesson. Maybe pick up a few pointers from 'the master,' she said." I stopped and made the quote marks with my fingers, and tried to utter the words with your flair for the dramatic. I let out a faint laugh at the memory; I could hear your voice as clear as day in my head, like it was yesterday.

Edward's smile was even more faint than my laugh. He sensed where this was headed. I'm sure he had already figured it out. The curl of his lips was bordering on grim, like he was bracing himself. I felt myself doing the same.

"My first lesson was scheduled the day after my sixteenth birthday, at the biggest guitar shop in the city. Mom had decided that I should drive… put my new license to the test. That's exactly how she put it, too. 'Let's put that license to the test, baby!'" I shuddered involuntarily. "She had no way of knowing how horribly I would fail."

Edward's brows furrowed, and I knew he wanted to correct me; to assure me I had done nothing wrong. But he let me continue, and I was grateful. My mouth was on a strange sort of autopilot now, the truth emerging from my depths like a long-submerged submarine hell-bent on reaching the surface. It felt almost as alien and separate from me as a submarine, too, the words echoing distantly in my ears as if someone far away was saying them. I watched myself set the mug of tea on the coffee table in front of the sofa before sitting back to continue.

"It was a Saturday afternoon. It was cloudy and looked like rain, which was really unusual for Phoenix. We laughed and said we'd have to write it down in our diaries: 'today was the first day in three years that we didn't need to wear sunglasses.' I wore them anyway, because of the glare. But maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I would have been able to see better without them. Maybe they messed up my peripheral vision. Because how could I not see a delivery truck coming right at us? How is that possible? I mean, it wasn't as big as a semi, but it was definitely bigger than a pick-up or a van. Big enough to fold our little Focus into an accordion when it hit the passenger door."

Edward's hand had stilled. His fingers were frozen in the hair behind my ear. I looked up at him, and the tinge of his skin was reminiscent of his eyes. His head shook ever so slightly from side to side, as if to refute what I was saying. But there was no denying the truth. I knew it with absolute certainty in that moment. It gave me strength, somehow; knowing that the inevitable would have its day, yet I would still be standing afterward.

"Mom was talking and laughing right before it happened. Telling me some funny story about my step-dad Phil when he was trying out for the minors. I was trying to listen to her and laugh in all the right places, but still pay attention to the road. Even though I had practiced driving plenty of times with Mom and Phil before, this was my first real trip half-way across the city. I was paying such close attention, I thought. We came up to the intersection, and the light was green. I thought it had been green for a long time, but I wasn't sure. I didn't have that much experience. I should have slowed down. Why didn't I slow down? Because green means 'go,' that's why. Even children know that."

I shook my head, feeling as confused now as I ever had at the memory. "I've never been able to figure out exactly what happened then. No matter how much I slow it down in my mind and try to recall all the details, at some point it just becomes flashes, like still frames from a movie. Green light. I keep going. Mom talking and laughing. Me looking at mom and seeing the truck looming behind her window, coming fast. Unbelievably fast, like he has a green light too. Brakes screaming far too late. Mom screaming."

Edward looked ill. His eyes were wet at the corners. I was cried out now; bone dry, weary and matter-of-fact.

"Her scream was blessedly short; cut off almost instantly. But the screech of the tires seemed to go on and on, even after the crash was over. The impact of it was impossibly loud, like a bomb going off; and then nothing but those damned tires. It took a minute or two before I realized it wasn't the tires I was hearing… it was me. I couldn't stop screaming her name. Screaming 'no.' Because I knew she was gone. One look and I knew."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memory of all the blood. I didn't want the nightmares to come back. They had become fewer and further between with each passing year, and for that I was grateful. So was Angela, who had soothed my night terrors more times than I could count.

The movement of Edward's fingers behind my ear again alerted me to the fact that I'd been staring, unseeing, at the collar of his shirt. I didn't remember opening my eyes. And yet I suddenly realized I'd been studying the beard stubble growing down his neck, so virulent and full of life, always threatening to claim victory over his Adam's apple. I reached out tentative fingers to touch it, and sighed at the comfort I found in its prickly persistence.

Edward's own fingers made their way out of my hair to cup my face, lifting it gently so that my eyes would follow.

"The traffic lights were broken, Bella," he reminded me softly. His eyes said all the other things his lips did not. _It's not your fault. You had just gotten your license. An experienced driver wouldn't have fared any better. It was an accident. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can't blame yourself. _All the things I knew; all the things that counselors and relatives and friends had told me over and over. Assurances that didn't ease the loss or guilt one damned bit, no matter how hard I tried to let them.

"I know they were broken," I replied. "It doesn't change anything."

Edward's eyes closed for a moment, forcing one tear to make its escape down his cheek. "I know," was all he said.

The look in his eyes once again told me that he did know, all too well. I wondered who he had lost. Was it Tanya? I wanted to ask him; yet perversely, I didn't want to know. Not now. I couldn't handle any inkling of his love for her at a time when I needed every ounce that he could muster for me.

He pulled me close, and I knew he was now the one whose eyes could not meet mine. "Bella," he sighed into my ear. The sigh was broken, almost a sob. It eked out more tears of my own, for even though I was finally surmounting my own pain, I could not bear his. His arms were tight around me, hands buried in my hair; I mimicked him with arms encircling his neck as I hung on for dear life. The feel of his chest expanding and contracting against mine was my lifeline. I clung to him, needing his warmth and breath and life with an acute desperation. I'll never have the chance to ask for your forgiveness, Mom; but I could ask for Edward's.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was keeping recordings of your singing," I blurted shakily against the scruff of his neck. The words of this new confession bubbled to the surface and overflowed in a torrent of emotion; new insecurities now replacing old hurts. "At first I was afraid that if I told you, you'd be angry with me and tell me not to do it anymore. And I needed those songs, Edward. I needed to hear your voice. Before we got together, I was borderline obsessed with listening to you. You haunted me. I was so desperate for more of you. I just wanted to be near you, get to know you; get inside your head and your heart and your soul and figure out where all those powerful words and music came from."

I pulled back and gripped his face in my hands, eyes begging his for understanding. "Those songs mean everything to me. I never would have given them willingly to Rosalie. You have to believe that. I never dreamed she would go through my desk and rifle through my private things. I'm so sorry, Edward. Please, please forgive me."

His expression was bewildered. He shook his head and let out a wry, disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe you're even thinking about any of that right now. It's water under the bridge…so unimportant in light of everything you just told me."

"Not to me, it's not," I told him, quickly wiping the tears from my cheeks. "I can't stand the thought of you being mad at me, or not trusting me. I would walk on broken glass before I would willingly betray you like that. That's why I followed you here, to make sure you know that. The minute Rosalie told me she confronted you about signing with us, I literally ran after you, hoping to catch you before you left. I still had my purse and my keys in my hand, so I jumped in the truck and drove here, hoping that you were coming straight home like you said you were. I was so relieved to see you at the door that I didn't even notice Lucky until he was right there, practically under my wheel well. Edward, if I had hit him, I don't know what I would've done. I never would have forgiven myself."

Edward was shaking his head through half of my tirade, apparently anxious to make a rebuttal. When I paused to get my breath, he took advantage of the opening.

"Lucky's fine. And even if he wasn't, it wouldn't have been your fault. None of this - today, or that horrible day six years ago, was your fault. And I'll tell you so every day for the rest of your life if that will make you believe it. You can't keep walking around with the weight of that guilt on your shoulders when it's not yours to bear. It kills me to see you doing it. I would do anything to take that burden from you."

I looked into his impassioned green eyes and believed him. I wondered if I could believe him enough to actually do what he asked of me and let go of this, once and for all.

"I truly thought I had let go of a lot of the guilt. The feeling that I was at fault; that I could have reacted differently - better, faster, smarter. I really thought I was past it until Lucky ran in front of my car. As soon as I lost control, it all came rushing back. Every bit of it." I sighed heavily and took Edward's hands in mine. He quickly slid his fingers between mine and squeezed them tightly. I loved how big and masculine and capable his hands felt.

"I know I can't go back and change anything," I continued. "I used to imagine all the 'what if's' when I was younger. What if we had left just one minute sooner or one minute later? What if Mom had been driving instead? What if she had stayed home? God, you have no idea how many times I wished and dreamed and cried myself to sleep imagining that she hadn't gotten in the car with me that day. Praying with all my might that when I woke up, she'd be there, apologizing for giving me cold cereal for breakfast again."

Edward's hands tightened their grip on mine. "You know your mother wouldn't want you to do this to yourself," he said softly.

"Of course I know that. But it's always been easier said than done."

He nodded. We both stared at our entwined hands for a moment. His thumbs gently stroked the backs of my hands. Even his tiniest, most subtle caresses had the soothing authority of a masseur. I looked up at his face; his expression was perplexed, brows knitted in thought.

"Did you ever find out what the hell happened to make those traffic lights get stuck? I mean, honestly, you should have been blaming someone in the Phoenix DOT or Public Works Department for gross negligence. You and your step-father should have sued the hell out of them," Edward said bitterly.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Funny you should mention that. We did sue them for exactly that - gross negligence, and wrongful death. Well, Phil sued them, really. I was a minor and wasn't really involved in the proceedings that much. I had moved to Forks by the time the suit went to court. I had to fly back to Phoenix during my summer break to testify. I think I've kind of blocked most of it out. All I remember is that repeating all the details of the accident to the judge was one of the most painful things I've ever had to do. I didn't have nearly enough distance from it at the time. Having to relive it was… excruciating. But I guess my obvious pain and suffering worked in our favor, because we won. Isn't that an awful word to use? 'Winning?' I felt like I had lost everything when my mother died. Monetary compensation was almost a slap in the face. Like I was being rewarded for driving the person I loved most in the world into the path of an oncoming truck."

"Bella," Edward chastised me gently. "Don't."

I relented with a sigh. "Let's just say that we received a very generous settlement from the city of Phoenix, and most of it went to me. I refused to touch it for years. But when I realized how hard it would be for a small-town cop like my dad to put me through college on his salary, I decided to use the settlement money for tuition. The rest of it is still sitting in some money market accounts, accruing interest."

Edward searched my eyes, then studied our hands for a moment. "I think your mom would be glad that something good came out of your worst nightmare," he said at last. "You know that wherever she is, she's watching over you, and she's got to be happy that you went to school and pursued your dream. She'd never begrudge you that."

I gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded in acknowledgement. "You know what would really make her happy, though?"

"What's that?"

"The fact that you gave me the strength to play the guitar again," I told him, my smile growing. "I never did take those lessons, you know. Never made it to the biggest guitar shop in Phoenix, to learn from 'the master,' whoever he was. I couldn't do it. I always hated myself for it, because I knew how much it would disappoint Mom that I let the accident keep me from pursuing something I loved; something she wanted for me so badly. But now I know why I couldn't do it until now." I squeezed Edward's hands so tightly that the damp sweat of my palms became indistinguishable from his. "I was waiting for you."

I watched as Edward's features twisted with emotion, his eyes brimming with tears. I could see his struggle to keep them from falling.

"You give me too much credit," he muttered hoarsely.

"You don't give yourself enough," I corrected him. "You don't know how much you've helped me just by being here for me, listening to me, letting me tell my story. Letting me dump on you after I almost ran over your cat." My attempt at levity fell short for both of us, but he gave me a half-hearted grin anyway, because that was his way. That was what he did for me, over and over.

"You know something? I just realized I lied to you again. And I'm not going to lie to you anymore, I swear to you." His forehead creased in concern again at my words. I tried to stifle a smile as I continued. "I lied when I told you I only spent my settlement money on school. I actually spent some of it a couple of weeks ago, when I went shopping for the Black and Red Ball."

His clouded eyes cleared as he figured out my meaning. "The dress?" he asked, giving me a subdued version of his patented crooked grin.

I nodded, my own grin spreading. "After I tried it on, I had to have it. I knew Mom would approve. I didn't even look at the price tag. I just wanted to look beautiful for you."

His expression hovered somewhere between exasperated and pleased. "You always look beautiful to me."

I rolled my eyes slightly. "I'm sure I'm a real treat right now." I cut off his imminent protest with, "I wanted to look especially beautiful that night. I wanted you to want me, the way I did you."

"How could you not have known how much I wanted you? I think you did know," he accused. "You just wanted to make me crazy. And you succeeded."

"Yes, but you like it when I make you crazy," I said, throwing one of his chief arguments back at him.

His grin was full-fledged this time. "I do like it." He paused a moment, letting his eyes languidly sweep the length of my face. "I like you."

I let out a laugh at that high school sentiment. I let go of his hands in favor of grasping his hair instead. "Really? I'm so glad, because I like you, too. I might even let you hold my hand behind the bleachers after the big game tomorrow night."

"I don't know. That's a pretty big step there - bleacher action," he teased, his arms snaking around me. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

I nodded and pressed my nose to his. "If you play your cards right, I might even let you kiss me."

"Now you're really flirting with danger. I might get the wrong idea and think you're serious about me. I might ask you to go steady."

"There you go with the commitment talk again. Freak," I giggled into his mouth before I kissed him. I was glad for the return of our light banter, a welcome counterpoint to the heaviness our hearts had just shared. Our kisses were gentle, careful not to upset the delicate balance we were striking between past pain and present pleasure.

We made out like tentative teenagers for awhile, kissing and caressing and snuggling through our layers of clothes, content with the simple nearness of one another. We only stopped when Lucky came and jumped on our laps, his stealth attack nearly sending me through the roof.

"Damn it, cat, stop scaring my girlfriend to death," Edward scolded. I wondered if I would ever stop feeling giddy when he called me his girlfriend. He tried to give Lucky a swat, but I blocked him with a protective arm around the cat's fluffy body.

"It's not his fault I'm so jumpy," I said, stroking Lucky's soft fur.

"Just remember it's not yours, either," Edward reminded me. He chose to stroke me instead of Lucky; and, like the cat, I leaned my head into the warmth of his hand. "There's one thing I need to say to you, Bella. Something you need to understand."

That piqued my curiosity. "What's that?"

His eyes were sober and piercing as he ran his thumb along my jaw. "As sorry as I am that you lost your mother that day, you need to know how grateful I am that Fate, or God, or whoever's in charge of what goes on in this world, spared you. And how grateful I am that He sent you to me. So if you're ever tempted to feel guilty for surviving when she didn't… please, don't. I love you and need you far too much for you to ever feel unworthy of still being alive."

I stared at him, stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to me before, not even Charlie. Of course, Charlie is a man of few words; but when he speaks, he has an uncanny way of getting to the heart of the matter. Even so, I'd never heard a declaration like Edward had just made. Never had anyone spelled out in such stark, absolute terms what my existence, even in the absence of my mother's, was worth.

His thumb reached up to catch the tear that rolled down my cheek at his words. I could think of nothing to say. At least, nothing as profound and moving as what he had just uttered. My tears spoke for me, falling unfettered in response to the emotions that flooded me. But the overwhelming feelings that caused the floodgates to open were so different this time: love and grateful adoration instead of guilt and self-recrimination.

"Edward," was all I could sob as I threw my arms around him. He held me close in another emotional embrace, the scent of his neck a heady drug tempered only by the scratch of his beard stubble on my cheek.

Lucky, nonplussed at this display of affection that did not include him, padded up and down our legs, trying to soften us up, before plopping his body down in the vicinity of our laps. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. I welcomed another bit of comic relief from the intensity of my emotions, even if they were good ones.

Even Edward was chuckling as he pulled away from me slightly. "Just like a little kid - you always have to be the center of attention, don't you," he admonished his pet. He gave Lucky a scratch or two behind the ears, then let his fingers comb through the thick orange fur of the animal's back. The cat purred contentedly.

"That's the sound I would make right now, if I could," I told Edward.

He shot me a devilish grin. "I can make your pussy purr right now, if you'd like. I've done it before."

"And I can make your cock crow," I shot back. "What's your point?"

Edward's laugh was free and easy then. "I guess my point is that we sure have one happy barnyard going on here, for a third-story loft."

I chuckled along with him for a moment. "I know I'm happy," I told him.

He smiled at me, shaking his head slightly. "Considering where we started out this afternoon, I'd say that's a very good place to be."

I thought back to the faint dread I'd felt at Edward's aloofness in the Java Noise lobby; then to the panic that had seized me at Rosalie's confession. I frowned as I tried to imagine what had gone on between them while I was at lunch.

"Edward, what did Rosalie say to you earlier? How did she get you to come see her without telling me about it?"

Edward frowned as well and looked away. "She didn't say much, really. She was very cryptic about why she wanted me to stop by. I just assumed it was about Jasper's band; that maybe she wanted to find out more about them before she made a decision."

He tried to keep his voice smooth and unruffled, but I detected a cool undercurrent - a cousin of the frosty tone he'd used with me earlier when he was trying to keep the truth from me. My eyes narrowed as I looked up at him.

"So what did she do when you got there? How did you know she'd found my memory stick with your music on it?" I questioned him.

He took a deep breath, his face a mask of discomfort. "She basically indicated that after hearing the rehearsal last night, she was hoping that I would be a more permanent part of Jasper's band. When I denied having the kind of talent that would make me a desirable addition to Java Noise, she decided to play me a snippet of my own music, just to prove me wrong."

My eyes were round with shock as I envisioned Rosalie's surprise attack. Worse yet, I could just picture Edward's response at hearing his own music fill the room, realizing that I must have been the one who had obtained it. I was horrified at the thought of how betrayed he must have felt. How he must have questioned my integrity and my loyalty, not to mention my love.

"Oh my God," I murmured at last, feeling sick at my stomach. "I can't believe she did that. I was always so careful not to leave any of your music lying around where she might come across it. I never dreamed she would dig in my desk drawers, though. I can't believe she'd stoop so low. But I knew that once she heard you, she'd want you as a client. I'm not surprised she went after you. But I'm completely shocked at how she went about it. I'm so sorry, Edward."

"Don't apologize for her," he said bitterly. "I can't listen to you trying to take the rap for anyone else's failings today."

"But I have to take responsibility for my own," I argued. "I recorded you the first night I saw you. I record everyone at open mic nights, but I rarely keep any of them for long. You were so different. I was shocked at how deeply you touched me. I tried to tell you that night, but you were so… abrupt with me. And then when you explained how distasteful you found the idea of selling your music, I couldn't admit what I had just done. But I couldn't stop doing it, either. I recorded you the next weekend, and again when the four of us went out together and you played with Jasper. You have to let me own up to my part in this, and apologize to you. I'm sorry, Edward."

He sighed and stroked my cheek gently. "I don't want to hear any more of your apologies today, Bella. No more blame. I performed in a public place, and a hundred people at every show could have sent a tape of me to your boss, or posted it on the internet. It doesn't matter if Rosalie tries every trick in the book to get me on your label's roster. All I have to do is say, 'no.'" He smiled, then leaned in and gave me a soft kiss.

I looked up into his understanding eyes and knew without question that I was the luckiest girl on earth.

"Have I told you today that I love you, Edward?"

"Yes. But you can tell me again."

And so, I did. Several times, in fact, throughout the rest of the day and night. We barely moved from the couch. At one point, I dozed off with Lucky purring like a motorboat on my stomach. Edward ordered Chinese take-out, and we ate it from the sofa, wordlessly watching the evening news. We lounged in front of the TV afterwards, talking, not talking, zoning, snoozing. We couldn't seem to muster the energy for anything more after our draining afternoon, and we headed for bed early.

Still, just to be sure we were on the same page, I demurely whispered a request to Edward as he began to undress me.

"Can you just hold me tonight?"

His half-grin was reassuring. "Of course," was all he said.

Minutes later we lay in the center of his enormous bed, entwined from head to toe in Egyptian cotton and silken skin. The drumbeat of his heart was slow and steady under my ear, and I let its rhythm lull me. I was half-asleep when I vaguely heard his words.

"It means a lot to me that my music touched you so deeply," he murmured. The sound was small; vulnerable. "I knew that you saw inside me that night. Saw the real me."

I ran my hand reassuringly up and down his shoulder. "Did that scare you?"

His chest swelled with breath beneath me; its release stirred my hair. "Yes."

I frowned sleepily, but didn't raise my head from his chest. I didn't want my eyes to demand too much from his, even in the dim light. "Are you still afraid?"

He was quiet for a moment, but his heart had quickened. "A little," he admitted.

It was my turn to sigh now. I couldn't blame him. After all, look what it had taken for me to finally open up completely and reveal my deepest pain to him.

"Don't be afraid," I told him. "It's not so bad, letting go. Not when you have someone to catch you."

I felt him nod slightly, his chin gently bobbing against the top of my head. I prayed to God for the strength to be his safety net, his safe harbor, as he had been mine.

Encircled in his arms, I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	31. Confession, part 2

_**Another chapter that, when finished, makes me wonder how the heck it ended up being so long. Hopefully that's in a good way. I'll let you be the judge of that.**_

_**Eternal thanks to everyone checking out my story and leaving feedback. To those of you I can't reply to personally, please know how much your comments have meant to me. I truly appreciate each and every one.**_

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Saturday, August 28 (cont'd.)**

_Kisses along my neck._

_Warm, soft. I am dreaming of his lips again._

_They part…tongue leaving wet heat behind, only to be cooled by his breath as he works his way down to my shoulder._

_It feels real. My dreams of him are always vivid. I've even felt him moving inside me, only to wake up alone and empty._

_But that was before I knew what it was to truly have him inside me. Those dreams of longing stopped after his love became my reality. _

_Is this real? He is spooning me, his body curled protectively around mine. His hand is under the sheets, over my breasts…fondling, rubbing my nipples firmly until they respond with a firmness of their own. Soft belly fur presses insistently against my lower back; I arch instinctively toward the silken warmth. _

_And then I feel it, hard and purposeful, smooth and sleek… like velvet-covered marble sliding between my buttocks. I arch further, lifting my outer leg slightly, parting to take the velvet between my legs. It finds my yearning wetness instantly. I am always this way for him. I couldn't hide my desire if I wanted to. The evidence of my arousal always gives me away._

"_Ready for me so soon…." More velvet, whispering in my ear this time. "You must be feeling better this morning."_

_My hand covers his as he caresses my breasts. My leg raises up and back, over his hip; my thigh rests upon his, my foot hooks itself behind his calf. _

"_I feel amazing," I sigh, waiting for the velvet marble to push its way inside me. He does not disappoint. One stroke, two, three… and he's buried to the hilt. I exhale and it ends in a groan; he adds his own at the last thrust._

"_You do feel amazing," he replies, his voice rougher now. He releases my breasts and runs his long fingers down my stomach, over my abdomen, between my legs. He swirls them in circles over the sensitive flesh there as he takes me from behind in slow, deep, strokes. Quiet whimpers escape me already… the sounds of someone crying for more. _

_I murmur my disappointment as his fingers leave my sex and glide down my thigh, taking the sheet with him, exposing us to the cool air. His hand grips my flesh firmly, then lifts my leg like it weighs nothing. He is opening me up wider for him. He wants to go deeper. Always deeper. _

_And I love it. I want it. I crave and need it. I need _him_._

_I reach back to wind my fingers in his hair, gripping it tightly as he pushes his velvety shaft all the way in… pulls all the way out … then plunges in again. He's driving so deep that he hits the opening of my womb and I cry out sharply in a mixture of pleasure and pain. It's too much. Too intense. _

_He slows. Plants soft kisses near my ear again. He's going to speak; perhaps apologize. _

_I don't want words. At least not those words._

"_Don't stop," I order him. It sounds more like begging. My need has outweighed my want._

_I know he will need no more assurances; no more encouragement. He loves taking over my body, bending it to his will, making it sing. He played me like a maestro the first day he touched me in his massage room. The symphony has only swelled since then, building to crescendo after crescendo in an endless series of gorgeous movements. _

_His head bows over me, lips searching for the swell of my breast. It is already erect with tension before he tongues it into an aching knot of pleasure. He's sucking and fucking me in perfect cadence now, the rhythm building so slowly that my mind scarcely perceives it quickening. _

_My body is much more attuned to the difference. It knows this pace very well, after only seven days. It knows every inch of this velvet marble; has yielded and molded itself to the rigid contours of his flesh. Each time it grips him and caresses him, pulls and releases him, and finally clutches him in spasms of ecstasy when he pushes it beyond the brink of containment._

_He's pushing my body now. Drilling me from behind in search of treasure. I can feel the engorged tip of him slamming mercilessly into the sensitive flesh of my frontal wall. With every driving thrust, he rakes the velvet marble over that quivering bundle of nerves, sparking the slow burn that will soon burst into a conflagration. My body feels it coming before I do. It responds immediately, coaxing and encouraging the quickening of his rhythm, craving the friction that will create the spark. It relishes the escalation of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Rougher. Deeper._

_We pass the familiar threshold now; the point where love-making becomes fucking. Where animal instincts and appetites overwhelm all other considerations._

_Or do they? My love for him does not abate as my lust burgeons. Instead, the two conspire to merge into a force so powerful that it is far beyond my control. My hand twists in his hair, grasping it for dear life as I revel in his merciless assault. He is panting. Whimpering. Grunting. Growling. Emitting sounds of base need that I hear myself matching._

_And then, he shifts, pulling out, lifting himself from me. It's so sudden that I cry out in dismay._

"_No!"_

_Did I say it out loud? I must have, for he chuckles. He has the audacity to find humor in breaking our bond. But before I can gather my wits to protest, he is kissing me. Kissing me with a maddening blend of tenderness and hunger that astounds me._

_Of course, he isn't done with me. He's never done with me until he's filled me with fireworks and I explode all around him. He is only turning me toward him and shifting our bodies so that he is on top of me. He dominates me now, parting my legs, spreading me open to take more punishment from the velvet-tipped rod. _

_But his sensual, full-body thrusts are anything but a punishment. The sensation of his torso grinding into mine feels far more like a reward. The heat of his skin blankets me in a passion so blistering that I dissolve beneath him. I am joined with him so completely and utterly that there is no part of me that is separate anymore. I cling to him, our limbs melding, my lungs stealing the air from his before giving it back. _

_He is pumping so hard now that the expensive bed finally protests noisily beneath us. I reach back and grip the iron headboard to brace myself as he fucks me with relentless fervor. He is all desperate eyes, flaring nostrils, clenched jaw, straining veins and muscles. He is glorious. The intensity of what he is doing to me is overwhelming, unbearable. The only thing more unbearable would be for him to stop. _

_His eyes beg me to give in; to unleash my most powerful abandon all around him._

_With a shuddering cry, I submit._

_The ecstasy is astonishing. I sob as if I am in pain, because the pleasure cannot bear anything less. He does the same when he comes. He shakes and shudders and moans as he bathes my core in molten liquid. I want to keep its heat inside me as long as possible; to luxuriate in that part of him that he's left with me after he has withdrawn._

_I wish I could do the same. Leave something of me with him; a reminder of what we've shared._

_But when I see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at me, I realize I already have._

"Bella - I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you."

Rosalie's voice abruptly jarred me from my reverie, stealing my momentary calm at the memory of my morning with Edward. A wave of nervousness replaced my post-coital bliss. I had rehearsed what I was going to say to her during the drive from Edward's place to mine, and again on the trek to work. I had arrived early only to fidget behind my desk, waiting, fuming. I was still furious over her invasion of my privacy, not to mention the cunning way she had cornered Edward. I planned to let her know under no uncertain terms that neither of those actions was acceptable.

But after running out of the office and never returning to work yesterday, I didn't have much of a leg left to stand on. For all I knew, Rose was as upset with me as I was with her right now.

I had tried to steady my nerves by replaying the morning tryst with Edward in my head. I'd never had a wake-up call that wonderful in my life. After my emotional confessions the day before, sex with him was that much more heightened and meaningful to me. So much more than the physical was shared when we joined together now. I wondered if Edward knew how much strength he gave me just by being with me; being in my corner. He had offered to drive me home, and to work; but I knew very well that I needed to get right back on that bike - or rather, right back in that truck - and keep on going. I don't think he'll ever understand how deeply it touched me when he insisted on walking me to my truck this morning, then waited and watched until I had driven safely down his block and around the corner, out of view.

I held on to the memory as I faced Rosalie with uncertainty now. I was surprised when she paused at the chair across from my desk, her eyes asking for my permission to sit. I thought for sure that she would take me into her office rather than let me have the home-turf advantage.

I hesitated, then nodded my consent.

"Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush," she said as she lowered herself to the chair. "I know I owe you an apology. What I did was sneaky and underhanded. I should have come to you first about my suspicions instead of trying to trick Edward into telling me what was going on. I'm really sorry, Bella."

I studied her through narrowed eyes. I had to admit, this was the most contrite I'd ever heard Rosalie sound. It didn't suit her. Her apparent sincerity sucked a bit of the wind out of my sails. I found myself feeling a little irritated that she'd diffused my anger before I even had the chance to vent it.

"You dug in my desk drawers," I reminded her crossly. "I had that flash drive inside a coin purse. That means you snooped through my personal belongings to find it."

She looked ashamed, but not ashamed enough. "I know. I shouldn't have done it. But truthfully, if you didn't want me to hear Edward, you shouldn't have left those music files here at work. That desk and everything in it is Java Noise property. This company pays for all your recording equipment," she argued.

"That flash drive is mine," I snapped. "Paid for by me, for my own personal use. I didn't mean to leave it here. Don't worry, it won't happen again."

Rosalie let out a sigh. "I'm not proud of how I handled all of this," she repeated. "But just imagine, for a minute, how I felt when I heard Edward for the first time last night. When I realized that you knew exactly how gifted he is, but kept it to yourself this whole time. We pay you to find us the best talent this city has to offer; and the fact that you sat on a diamond in the rough like Edward really galls me, quite frankly," she fumed. "I don't mind telling you that I felt a little hurt and betrayed. I actually started to question your loyalty, to be honest."

My eyes bugged in disbelief. I was too flabbergasted to speak for a moment. When I did find my voice, I was practically sputtering.

"I have been nothing but loyal to you for over a year now. I have busted my hump and put in countless hours of overtime going to clubs and working with artists to get them signed. The first night I saw Edward perform, he made it crystal clear that he had absolutely no desire to become a professional musician. He wanted nothing to do with us, or me, at the time. Rosalie, we have hundreds of artists beating down our doors trying to get a deal with Java. Why would I waste my time on a lost cause?"

"Lost cause?" she exclaimed with incredulity. "If you can't convince the guy you're sleeping with to come in here and lay down a few tracks just for fun, then I seriously wonder about your powers of persuasion. Maybe you aren't cut out for this business after all, Bella. At least not as an A&R rep." Her mouth set into a rigid line as her icy eyes challenged me.

I was livid, practically quivering with indignation. "I can't even believe you just suggested that I should use my relationship with Edward to get him on board as a client. Do I look like a prostitute to you? Because I draw the line at whoring myself out for this company. If you're really going to make me choose between my loyalty to my job and my loyalty to the man I love, I can already tell you, Edward will win."

Rosalie let out another sarcastic snort. "Love! You think you're in love with Edward? You barely know the boy. I can't believe you have it this bad, this fast. That guy is too smooth for his own good. Too good-looking. He could probably talk you into just about anything," she grumbled.

My jaw nearly hit the desk after that remark. What the hell was she talking about?

"Where is this coming from?" I demanded. "What is it you think Edward's trying to persuade me to do, exactly? Other than respect his wishes," I spat, with a disbelieving shake of my head. "It's enlightening to know what you really think of me - that I'm so weak-willed that I'd turn into nothing but my boyfriend's puppet. And I'm beyond offended that you think I only love Edward because he's good-looking. I had no idea you have such a low opinion of me, Rosalie." My voice was shaking by the time I was finished. I was floored that she thought I was such a pushover.

She sighed again and rested her forehead in her hand for a moment. "I don't have a low opinion of you, Bella. I'm a realist, that's all. I've seen stronger-minded girls than you let their lives be completely derailed by a guy who pulled them too far off track. I don't want to see that happen to you. You've got a good future in this business and a chance at a great career if you keep your head on straight.

"I'm sorry if I jumped the gun about Edward," she continued, not sounding particularly penitent. "I hope I've misjudged him. He's not a straight shooter like his brother is, you know? He holds his cards too close to the vest for me to know what kind of deck he's playing with. I just don't want you to be the loser here, Bella. Truly."

I stared darkly at Rose, wondering where her misplaced paranoia was coming from. Mixed metaphors aside, she was clearly sincere about her distrust of Edward. But what, exactly, did she suspect him of doing? Being a negative influence on me, obviously; but in what way? Just because he didn't want to sign with Java Noise didn't mean that I was going to stop looking for talented people who did.

"I don't know what to tell you, Rose," I said quietly. "Whether you believe it or not, Edward joining our roster was never a possibility. Either you trust my judgment and my abilities, or you don't."

"I've never questioned your abilities, you know that," she assured me. "You've got that knack, that ear for potential, that can't be taught. I want you on my team, Bella. I just hope that's where you want to be."

She didn't seem sure of my answer. And because of her lingering doubt, I wasn't as certain of my reply as I thought I'd be.

"Of course, I do," I told her. "I thought I'd spent the last year proving that to you. And I'll continue to prove it to you, as long as you'll let me." I hadn't forgotten that I'd gone AWOL the afternoon before, and that there might be consequences for that.

Rosalie looked relieved. "I'm more than happy to forgive and forget all of this. If you can forgive my suspicious nature, I'll forget that you disappeared yesterday without so much as a phone call to let us know you were okay. Deal?"

She actually reached her arm across the desk for a handshake. I tentatively took her hand in mine and then grasped it firmly for a moment before releasing it. We smiled at one another, but a vague uneasiness still lingered within me. I knew I'd always question her trust in me from now on.

"So, what do you think about Jasper's band? As a three-piece, that is," I asked her. She had seemed enthusiastic about them yesterday morning, but that was before I knew she was plotting to make Edward a permanent member.

"A three-piece is a hard sell, frankly," she said. "Not as versatile. They're still pretty rough around the edges, but they have potential. I think they should keep at it. And I think Jasper should try to get Edward to seriously consider being a permanent part of the outfit. Sorry, I'll never change my mind about that."

I could feel the beginnings of an impasse form. "Are you going to tell Jasper that?"

Rosalie hedged a moment. "I don't want to discourage him. I think he realizes the band needs to gel more, get some gigs under their belt, before we can seriously consider them. So I'll probably keep that particular opinion to myself."

I nodded. "My lips are sealed," I agreed. I had no desire to impart that kind of news to Jasper when he'd chosen to make music his life, whether playing it professionally or teaching it.

"I'll assume Edward won't discourage his best friend that way, either, right?" she questioned me. We both knew what she was really asking.

"You can trust Edward," I said through slightly gritted teeth. "I'm not sure why you'd think otherwise."

Her eyebrow raised, but she said nothing. At least, nothing more about this now-sore subject. Instead, she changed the subject and began going over plans for the next show for Vegan Vamps, the first band I'd ever gotten signed for Java Noise. Their CD was going to be released soon, and next weekend they would be performing at a Labor Day Weekend outdoor festival showcasing Seattle talent. Aside from The Wolf Pack, they were my main work priority for the coming week. I was glad for the distraction, because I had the feeling that if I didn't keep myself busy, I'd spend most of my time wondering when Rosalie had begun to doubt me; or, more to the point, how and why Edward had caused it to happen.

When I finally got to take a break for lunch, I escaped to the Istanbul Grill for a few minutes to wolf down a falafel pita. I relaxed in a small booth and checked my phone messages, knowing I would have at least one from Edward.

8:55 a.m. _How did it go with Rosalie? Have you seen her yet?_

9:57 a.m. _I haven't heard from you. Hope everything's okay._

10:56 a.m. _If you don't text or call me at lunch, I'm coming over there with a shotgun and a shovel_. _I doubt anyone will miss her, except maybe Emmett._

I laughed at the last message, and wondered if Edward had any idea how much I loved him. Every time I thought I'd reached the pinnacle, he would do something to swell my heart just a little more.

_Sorry I couldn't check my messages sooner. Been keeping myself busy so I don't stew over this Rosalie business. She apologized, believe it or not. We still got into it, though. I don't know what her deal is, thinking I'm a doormat and you're some kind of Svengali walking all over me. I don't get it. Still irked that she won't drop the idea of you joining Jasper's band. I'm so sorry I got you into this, Edward. Oh, and do you have any idea how much I love you? xoxoxo_

I had only eaten a couple more bites of falafel before my phone buzzed in reply.

_I don't know where her paranoia comes from, but she obviously thinks that you not telling her about my occasional open mic nights was some kind of conspiracy against her. Just keep doing the great job for her you always do and prove her wrong. You have nothing to feel bad about. Hold your head high and remember how much I love you, which must be more than you love me, because you are far more deserving._

I made an exasperated clucking noise at his warped logic before typing my return message.

_Stop trying to one-up me in the who-loves-whom-more department. After the wake-up "O" you gave me this morning, you are more than deserving. I am the most satisfied, grateful, crazy-in-love girl on the planet. You cannot top that._

_Oh, yes I can. You let me fuck you awake at six a.m. That gives me dibs on grateful AND satisfied, though I might have to give you the crazy part, since you're not a morning person but you let me do it anyway. Just thinking about it makes me want to fuck you again, right now. What are you wearing today?_

Why did his crass language always make me hot? It was disturbing.

_Gray pin-striped slacks, blue shirt. Very non-descript. Not looking particularly fuckable._

_Ridiculous. I'm going to pretend I never saw that last sentence. Maybe it has escaped your notice, but I always want to fuck you. There really is no instance in which I wouldn't_ _want to, so you might as well rid your mind of such notions now. What shade of blue?_

_Navy. And you are…what's the word? Incorrigible. That's putting it mildly. Never mind the fact that there is no instance in which I would not want you to fuck me. So I'd say we are equal in that department._

_Oh, that's not true. I can think of two times already when you've asked me not to._

_Yes, but if you had wheedled and begged and cajoled, I would have given in._

_Damn, woman. You tell me this now? You'll be sorry you revealed that little nugget to me. There will be no rest for you from now on._

_Bring it, fucker. *literally* _

_GAH. Why do you do this to me at lunch? I'm sitting in a public place with a stiffy now._

_Can you save it for about five or six hours until we see each other?_

_Funny. *sarcasm font* I could, but it might be a bit off-putting to my clients._

_Doubtful. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Or ever? They probably all fantasize about you bending them over the massage table and giving them a good working-over._

_Oh Christ. Thanks for the visual. My next appointment is with a woman in her seventies. _

_You're welcome. Now your stiffy will be short-lived._

_I'll let you resurrect it from the grave tonight, after I give you a massage_.

I wished he could see the huge smile that spread across my face at his words.

_I'm getting another freebie? *happy dance of joy*_

_I want to check you out myself after what happened yesterday. I should have done it last night._

_I'm fine, worrywart. But if you want to feel for yourself, I am more than willing to comply._

_I love it when you surrender to me._

Desire crackled through me, and again I wondered why Edward's occasional dominance was such a turn-on. It went against every feminist principle I'd ever adhered to. I refused to give in that easily.

_I love it when you surrender to me, too._

_I have no problem with that. I have a pair of handcuffs, you know. We can take turns having our way with each other._

Another wave of lust barreled down my spine and seeped through my groin. While I deliberated how to reply, my phone buzzed again.

_Cat got your tongue, Bella?_

_No. Just feeling relieved that my genitals are on the inside so no one has to know what I'm thinking._

There, that ought to silence him for a minute.

Almost a minute, anyway.

I _know what you're thinking. I'm going to make your fantasies come true, Bella. Even the ones you didn't know you had._

I nearly broke out in a sweat then. Was he serious? I didn't doubt that he had a few sexual toys hiding in the loft somewhere. I wondered what sorts of games he'd played with past conquests… what kinky fetishes he might be harboring. I wondered what kind of sex _she_ had liked.

_Tanya. _I forced myself to think the name, when I hadn't for awhile. I wanted to forget she ever existed. But the fact that Edward's past with her was so mysterious only made me more worried that it was a past I couldn't live up to. A past that might somehow rear its ugly head in ways I could not foresee.

My phone buzzed once more. I hesitated before reading the message.

_I didn't scare you, did I? You know I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If I ever do, you have to promise to tell me right away._

I sighed and wondered what my problem was. I trusted him implicitly. I suspected what was really bothering me was that I _wanted_ him to do things to push me out of my comfort zone, even more than he already had. To make me go a step further…to connect with him in ways I had never connected with another human being before. Or maybe what I really wanted was for him to connect with _me_ like he'd never connected with anyone before.

The phone vibrated again in my hand.

_Promise me, Bella. _

A wry smile pulled at my lips. Even when he was repentant, he was insistent about it. Was this what Rosalie perceived about Edward that made her wary of him? His controlling nature? Maybe she was afraid that that tendency would turn into outright manipulation. If she thought he was capable of that, she was way off base.

_I promise, Edward. You just got my mind wandering, that's all. Thinking…wondering._

_What I wouldn't give to see inside your mind right now._

_That works both ways._

_I'm an open book. Ask me anything._

I let out a rueful laugh. If only that were true. If I asked him about Tanya now, would he finally tell me everything? But a better question was, did I really want to know?

_Okay. What are you doing this weekend? _I couldn't handle the intense turn our text conversation had taken anymore.

_LOL That's easy. Just the usual. I have three clients scheduled tomorrow morning, then a tennis match with Katrina. I can cancel that if you'd like, though. _

_No, I wouldn't ask you to do that. I'm a rotten tennis player. That will give me a chance to get a few things done around the apartment while Angela's away._

_She won't be there this weekend?_

_No, she'll be at Ben's. You want to spend some time at my place?_

_If you'll have me._

_Of course I'll have you. But it's so cramped and shabby chic compared to the loft._

_I like your place. It's warm and cozy and it smells like you. Besides, I have a personal challenge that I need to conquer, and it can only be done at your place._

_I'm intrigued. …?_

_I have yet to sustain an erection and fuck you properly in your bed. Your bed taunts me with memories of drunken impotence and sore hoo-has. It's time I taught it a lesson._

My nether regions burned anew. Damn him, anyway.

_Typical man. Always turning the conversation back to sex._

;-)_ The little head has a mind of its own. The big head is thinking that maybe we should just take it easy tonight. I know a great burger joint that we can relax at for awhile; then I can take you home and give you a proper massage. How does that sound?_

I turned my phone around and took a quick snapshot of the smile on my face, then sent it to Edward with the caption, _Does this answer your question?_

_It does that and so much more. Why don't I pick you up after work? Six-thirty or so?_

_Perfect. You are perfect. It would be annoying if I didn't love you so much._

_I am far from perfect, but your love definitely makes me a better man. _

I shook my head as I read his last message. He really didn't get it, did he? That those were the sentiments that made him perfect in my eyes; the things that tied my heartstrings in knots all around him.

The thought of my upcoming weekend with him kept me going through my busy afternoon. Rosalie and I deftly avoided any mention of Edward or Jasper and focused on the projects at hand. We were perfectly pleasant toward one another on the surface, but I could feel the foundation of what I had thought was a solid working relationship crumbling beneath the façade. By the time I left work, I was emotionally drained from keeping up the charade.

After trudging up the myriad steps to my apartment, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela had already vacated the house, so I took advantage of the alone time to stretch out on the couch and relax for a minute. The next thing I heard was the front doorbell, jolting me awake.

"Oh, shit," I sighed. Edward was already here and I hadn't even changed out of my work clothes yet. I groggily made my way to the front door, smiling sheepishly up at his gorgeous face as I opened it.

"Hey beautiful," he smiled down at me, then leaned in for a kiss. "Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to rest my eyes for a minute and I guess I fell asleep. Just let me change clothes and I'll be ready in no time."

"We don't have to go out now," he said as he followed me through the living room. "You can sleep some more and we can just order dinner in if you want."

"No, I want to go out, really," I insisted, giving his arm a squeeze. "I think getting out for a bit would do me good."

He caught my hand in his and squeezed back. "The place I'm taking you to is really laid back, and they make the best burgers in the city. I think you'll like it."

I assured him I would, then turned toward my bedroom. He pulled at my hand to stop me, then leaned in close, his breath hot in my ear.

"I love you in blue. You lied to me earlier - you look insanely fuckable."

I almost didn't blush anymore when he said things like that to me. Almost.

"You have such an elegant way with words, Mr. Cullen," I sighed up at him.

His grin was irrepressible. "All the better to seduce you with, Miss Swan."

I shook my head and mouthed the word, "Later," before pulling away from his grasp and making a quick dash for my bedroom door. I closed it behind me, knowing that if he wandered in to watch me undress, we'd never make it out of the house.

One comfy pair of jeans and faded periwinkle t-shirt later, I was ensconced safely in the Volvo, admiring Edward's chiseled profile as he drove.

"I notice you're still wearing blue," he commented with a sly sideways glance.

"I figured it would increase my odds later on."

He chuckled; a toasty, irresistible sound. "I don't think you quite grasped the gist of the text messages I sent you today. It doesn't matter what you're wearing - I'm a sure thing."

I relished the tingles that danced through me at his words. I said nothing; just smiled and basked in the warm, safe feeling of Edward behind the wheel as we traversed the city in search of dinner. He had the advantage of having grown up here, and consequently knew the out-of-the-way dives that always seemed to have the best food.

Mo's Diner was literally a hole in the wall, sandwiched between a real estate office and a hair salon on the south side. The place would have been virtually undetectable from the street were it not for the anemic fluorescent sign in the window proclaiming it open for business.

The inside was a different story. The room was narrow but long, lined with dark wood booths, a fully stocked bar, and walls full of old Seattle memorabilia. Apparently "Mo" couldn't decide whether the place should be a diner or a pub, so he split the difference. The result was a hodge-podge of neon and chrome flourishes set against a backdrop of exposed brick and ambient light.

"I like this place," I smiled as we settled into a cozy booth. I was grateful for the tiny table for two that Edward had spotted toward the back. I relaxed immediately in its cushy faux leather seats, my legs intertwining with his under the table, eyes feasting on his perpetually disheveled hair and lazy grin.

"Did you have a beer or something before you came to pick me up?" I accused as I studied his languid green gaze. His eyes had that watery look about them; less intense than when he was stone-cold sober.

"Just one," he answered defensively. "Just enough to take the edge off. I was worried about you all morning, you know."

"Sure, blame me," I retorted as the waiter approached to take our drink orders. "I'll have a large draw of the house special. I have some catching up to do," I told him, with a teasing glare at Edward. He went and ordered the same, giving me an ornery smirk in return.

"Well, I'm glad you made it through the afternoon without incident," he said, obviously referring to my situation with Rosalie.

I shrugged. "I had to. She's my boss. I mean, I get that she feels like I was keeping her in the dark about you, I guess. But it's like she's irritated with you just because you have no interest in a music career. I just don't get her problem with you. And anyone who has a problem with you has a problem with me now." I squeezed his ankle between mine under the table.

He looked like he was trying to fight the satisfied grin that turned the corners of his mouth. "While I appreciate your moral outrage on my behalf, I don't want to be the cause of any problems for you at work. Don't worry about me in all of this. Just watch out for yourself."

"I can't believe I actually have to. I never thought trust would be an issue between Rose and me. Now it's been broken on both sides." I shook my head, still perturbed at how things had gone down earlier. Edward looked ready to say something when the waiter brought our beers and took our burger orders. By the time he left, I thought of one more thing my boss had done that incensed me.

"You won't believe what she said about Jasper's band. She's not sold on them as-is. She still wants him to try to convince you to join them, since I obviously won't," I ranted. "And then she actually had the nerve to ask me to make sure you don't say anything to him about her criticism. She said she doesn't want to discourage him. I guess I should be glad that she was actually thinking about someone other than herself for a minute," I grumbled.

"I would never repeat anything like that, especially from her," he said gruffly. "Jasper's fully aware that the band needs a bit more polish. I don't think she's giving him enough credit." He frowned at his beer, then seemed to force his lips into a lopsided grin.

"You know what? I really don't want to talk about Rosalie anymore. Why don't you tell me what else you're working on right now?" he asked.

I was only too happy to change the subject to Vegan Vamps, whose name amused Edward greatly when I first uttered it. He was less amused when I filled him in on the Wolf Pack's progress, though he appeared relieved to hear that they'd soon be spending most of their time at a recording studio across town.

"You do realize it's ridiculous for you to even give Jake a second thought anymore, right?" I asked him. I couldn't believe he'd be jealous of any other guy, let alone Jake.

"Like I told you, I trust you completely. Jacob Black, not so much. I keep hoping he'll take Jessica up on her date offer, but so far he hasn't taken the bait. Apparently he's holding out for a tastier morsel." One eyebrow raised as he narrowed his eyes at me.

I rolled my own back at him and took a swig of my beer. "I can't believe Jessica asked Jake out. She's a braver soul than I am. But did you ever consider that maybe she's just not his type?"

Edward's lip raised in a slight sneer. "I would say the thought has crossed my mind, but that would be a lie. I don't spend much time giving a damn what Jacob likes, unless that happens to be you."

As I looked at Edward's scowling countenance, I couldn't help but grin.

"What?" he demanded crossly as my smile grew.

"You're cute when you're jealous. A little scary, but cute."

He gave me a sour smile. "I'm glad I amuse you."

"Hey, it's not very often that I get to turn the tables on you. Everywhere we go, I have to endure women eying you up and down like a juicy steak. I'm pretty sure I even saw our waiter wink at you earlier."

Edward gave me a look of mock horror. "A, that is patently untrue, so take it back. And B, you have no idea how many guys check you out. You're completely oblivious to your effect on the opposite sex."

I took a quick look around the diner. Not one single person was paying a lick of attention to either of us.

"Yep, you're right," I intoned gravely. "I might have to go outside and get a stick to beat off all this unwanted attention."

Edward's eyes narrowed at me further. "You're making me want to take you over my knee and paddle some sense into you instead."

I squirmed in my seat with discomfiting pleasure at the thought of him slapping my bare backside again. Why the hell did I like it so much? I could feel my face beginning to burn as pink as my ass cheeks probably did when he was through with me. I tried to smother my embarrassment in false bravado.

"I wonder, speaking of turning the tables… what if I did that to you? How would you like it?" I posed the question rhetorically, yet I was actually curious to hear the answer.

That wicked slow grin of his nearly did me in. "Why don't you try me sometime this weekend and find out?"

It was then that I noticed our legs moving in tandem under the table, slowly sliding together and pressing against one another's. I slipped off one flip-flop and raked my bare toes over the soft hair of Edward's shin under his pant leg. He inhaled sharply and his nostrils flared. The sight of it turned me on further, emboldening me.

"Maybe I'll try that and more," I taunted. I removed my foot from Edward's shin and slid it up between his blue-jean covered legs until it rested over the growing bulge in his crotch. My eyes never left his as I gripped the denim tent under my toes and gave him a firm squeeze. His nostrils flared even more as he stared hungrily back at me.

Before I could remove my foot in triumph, he grabbed it in both hands, rubbing it along the length of his hardening dick. "Thinking of adding a foot job to that list, are you?" he said in the Sex Voice. He began massaging my foot, his fingers kneading and tickling the tender flesh along the sole and between my toes. "Do you realize how many nerve endings are in the bottoms of your feet? I think you'd get almost as much pleasure out of jacking me off with them as I would."

I took a gulp of beer and let my false bravado do the talking again. "Why wait? Unzip your fly and let's find out right now."

Edward's piercing gaze looked dead serious for a moment, as if he were ready to do it. Then the inexorable half-grin claimed his lips and he shook his head, relenting.

"If the waiter weren't headed our way right now, I'd give your foot a shower you'd never forget," he murmured, one eyebrow cocked in a wicked arch.

"You would not," I whispered as I caught sight of our waiter and his serving tray out of the corner of my eye.

Edward chuckled and let go of my foot, which fell limply to the floor in rejection. We both smiled innocently up at our server as he set our burger platters on the table.

"Saved by the bell," Edward smirked as the waiter retreated.

"Like you'd let me jerk you off under the table in here," I retorted, reaching for the squeeze-bottle of catsup and shaking it briefly.

"'Let you?' More like, beg you. Nice visual, by the way," Edward commented as I squirted the catsup onto my plate in rhythmic spurts.

"You really are too perverted to live."

"Methinks thou doth protest too much," he said smugly. "You get off on it. And I'd let you suck me off under this table right now if you wanted to." He took a hefty bite of his burger and chewed it thoughtfully while I gave him a baleful glare. "I wonder if that would get you off, too. Sex in public." His eyebrow raised provocatively again, and moisture seeped unbidden into my panties. I wanted to point the catsup bottle at his face and douse him with it for being such a prick. I also wanted to crawl under the table and do exactly what he now had me fantasizing about.

"Unless you want to wear this catsup out of here, I'd suggest you stop that train of thought right now," I threatened. I didn't put the bottle back on the table until his face broke into a devilish grin and he held up his hands in surrender.

"You really make it way too much fun to tease you, Bella," he said with an unrepentant chuckle.

"I don't know why I let you get away with it," I grumbled. "You're too charming for your own good." _Too smooth for his own good…. _Rosalie's words replayed in my head, making me frown.

"You give as good as you get, most of the time," Edward pointed out with a smile. The smile faded when he noticed my tense expression. "What is it? I was just kidding around. You know that, right?"

"I know. Forget it. It's just been a long day, that's all."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It's not your fault," I insisted.

We ate our cheeseburgers in silence for a moment, speaking only to comment on how good the food was. I began to get a little annoyed with myself for letting one of Rosalie's errant comments get to me.

"Let's talk about you," I suggested to Edward, putting on a bright smile. "How was your day, dear?"

He let out a relieved-sounding laugh. "Nowhere near as eventful as yours, thankfully. I treated a high school football player with a stress injury, a senior citizen with gout, and a slew of middle-aged women with too much time on their hands."

I made a harrumphing noise. "I can guess what they were there for."

He gave me an amused look. "I love that you find me so irresistible, but I have news for you, Bella. Not every woman in the world wants to sleep with me. Honestly."

"That you know of, " I joked, though I wasn't sure how off the mark it was.

"Well, the seventy-year-old was eying me funny, but I think that was just her cataracts acting up."

"Along with her libido," I snorted.

Edward was still rolling his eyes when a question that had been nagging me popped into my head. "What about on your end, though? Haven't you ever had a hard time resisting temptation? I mean, surely you had other clients before me that you were attracted to."

He shrugged noncommittally. "One or two. But not so much that I ever seriously considered crossing the line, until you."

"Huh. Really?" I asked skeptically.

"Scout's honor."

I puzzled over that tidbit but couldn't make sense of it. "How is that possible?"

His expression was resolute. "The practice of massage therapy has struggled for years to rise above the old massage parlor connotations and be taken seriously. When I went into this line of work, I vowed to be completely professional at all times, and never let my personal life interfere. I wanted to be above reproach. No exceptions."

"But you did make an exception," I said quietly. I searched his eyes, trying to find the answer to the question I'd been asking myself since Day One. I mustered the bravery to finally put it into words. "Why me, Edward? What made you break the rules for me?"

His green gaze was serious as he looked up at me from under slightly knitted brows. "Because you needed me to." His brows furrowed further, as if in thought. "No, that's not right. I'm the one who needed to. I don't know why, exactly. I just knew the minute I touched you that there was a reason you came to me. At first I thought it was so that I could fix you. But now..." He faltered for a moment, nervously fingering his hair before he continued. "I'm realizing that maybe it was so you could fix me."

I fought the lump that formed in my throat, but I couldn't stop the film of tears that bathed my eyes.

"I didn't know you were broken," I managed to say.

His eyes were pained as he shook his head in disagreement. "Yes, you did."

The time had passed for footsy under the table. I reached my hand across the tabletop toward his; he met me halfway and laced his fingers through mine. We didn't let go.

Except for smatterings of small talk, we were quiet as we finished our meal and our beers. The silence was golden this time, though. Reverent, almost, despite our locale. We held hands all the way from the restaurant to my apartment, only parting long enough to get in and out of the car. The energy humming between us through that constant physical connection seemed to speak volumes more than any of the verbal exchanges we'd had that day.

When we entered the house, the unspoken conversation switched from our hands to our mouths as they joined together in a tender, soul-searching kiss. The kiss led to another and another as we inched our way to my bedroom. Edward began undressing me slowly; first pulling my t-shirt carefully over my head, then unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans before tugging them gently to the floor. I reached for the ragged hem of his distressed cotton tee, pushing it up so that my fingers could caress the ripples of his stomach up to the swell of his chest. He let me push the shirt as high as I could before he helped me by lifting it over his head.

Our hungry mouths joined again, tongues seeking warm, wet reassurance from one another. I felt my bra hooks spring apart on my back, then Edward's fingers glide up my shoulders to the straps. He pulled the bra down my arms and tossed it in the direction of my dresser. His hands quickly found my breasts, palming and stroking them until a soft sigh escaped from my lips into his.

"Massage time," he whispered, running his hands down my stomach and around to my back, leaving a trail of goose bumps wherever they roamed. I attempted to do the same to him as I let my fingers explore the muscles of his arms before reaching up to stroke the tactile scruff of his neck. I traced the line of his jaw with my thumb, my fingers reaching up to cradle the side of his face. His eyes closed and his head inclined toward my touch. He was so beautiful, so sexy, that I wanted to cry. How could this amazing creature have chosen me, above all others?

His eyes opened and gave me the answer I craved, though I could never hope to understand it. He led me toward the bed, pulled back the covers and told me to lie face down. I silently obeyed, clutching my pillow under my arms and resting my cheek upon it; then I lay in wait for his healing touch.

He turned on the small bedside lamp before leaving the room. I remembered he had brought a back-pack with him for his weekend stay, and it was still on the living room sofa. I soon heard his feet again, noisy with shoes, then muffled and bare on the rug. I smiled up at him as he came and sat next to me, opening a jar of faintly herbal-smelling massage gel.

"I can't believe you brought that with you," I said as he worked the gel between his gorgeous hands.

"I came prepared for all sorts of eventualities," he said mysteriously, making me wonder what other goodies he had packed for the weekend. But for now, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the utter bliss of Edward's hands upon me.

He began slowly, in the usual manner; methodically moving down my back and checking each muscle group, stretching and smoothing my body's twists and turns as he went. He left no part of me untouched. He released the tension in my back, unknotted the muscles of my arms and hands, and kneaded the length of my legs into limp, pliant noodles.

But just when I was as relaxed as I could ever remember being, he changed his methodology. He coated his hands with more gel and began rubbing them firmly up and down my back in broad, rhythmic strokes. Gone were the gentle, meticulous explorations of each specific muscle group. In their place were sweeping, full-body gestures, the pressure of his hands building as he pushed them ruthlessly up and down my limbs, squeezing and stroking my muscles with increasing force.

"Oh, my God," I moaned into my pillow as the pleasurable sensations grew with the intensity of his massage. In all the times I'd given myself over to his touch, never had I felt so completely at his mercy; so utterly helpless under his total possession of me. His masterful hands seemed to be everywhere at once. I could no longer distinguish where my body ended and they began. His touch was inside me now, imbuing me with his strength, his passion, his will, his desire. There was no difference between my own and his. They were one and the same now.

I don't know when he removed my panties. I only knew that I was exposed, and his hands were giving my hips and buttocks the same achingly delicious treatment he had given the rest of me. I moaned softly when his rhythmic assault of my gluteal muscles sent tremors through my entire groin. The sensual now fused with the sexual as his magic fingers came closer and closer to moving inside me. I longed for their forceful invasion of my deepest recesses, and the sweet release that would follow.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, his velvet voice ragged with want. "Turn over for me, Bella."

A thrill of desire traversed my spine and I obeyed him once more, turning my naked body upward, facing his gaze. His eyes were a dark, turbulent sea as they washed over me, curling around my curves and settling in my valleys. His hands soon followed, and I was overwhelmed again. Fingers following the line of my neck, then splaying across my chest… palms pressing, sliding down my belly… thumbs digging into the twitching nerves at the crease of my thighs. My breaths became sobs as he worked me up and down again, hands squeezing my breasts into quivering peaks and melting my thighs with hard caresses. My lungs expanded and pushed against him, rising into his warm touch. My legs parted like the sea, waiting for his advance.

And finally, his fingers took their prize, sliding into the wet, feeding into the heat. In and out, over and over, as rhythmic and purposeful as the rest of his touches had been. I moaned his name and shamelessly begged for more. I writhed and lifted to meet him, welcoming his possession, reveling in my own surrender.

He was right. I did always get it backwards. I loved it when I surrendered to him. To myself. To us.

I sought his eyes, that wild sea. His stare was glassy when I reached out for him. I grabbed at the waistband of his jeans, fumbling, silently pleading. He answered by standing and removing the last barrier between us, and his desire sprang forth with full intent. I opened myself again and took him in my arms, my legs, my sex. He succumbed with a sigh, and massaged me with his body then, his fingers finding respite in my hair. My hands were finally free to take their turn now, clutching and stroking and caressing every inch of his flesh that they could reach as he thrust himself into me. He gave, I took, and there was no difference between the two. We merged, consumed, erupted… together, united, one.

I ended my day with Edward exactly as it began, and everything in between faded away.


	32. Test, part 1

**The usual disclaimers apply: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters; I'm just the temporary puppet master. Hope you all enjoy the show.**

**Thanks for all your support, each and every one of you. I'd give you all a hug if I could. ;-)**

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_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Sunday, August 29**

_Thwap!_

I love the sound a tennis ball makes when it hits the sweet spot of the racket. That vibration of felt against nylon, followed by a faint whoosh of air as the racket strings propel the ball back toward its target across the net.

My target was, as always, the green asphalt rectangle approximately ten feet to the left or right of Katrina, depending which side of the court she was protecting. I aimed the ball just far enough to make her run for the volley, then leave her stranded there when I lobbed it back to the opposite side.

I had her running yesterday. I could hear her huffing and puffing, and took great pleasure in each frustrated grunt as she whacked the ball back to me, unable to be as precise in her aim because I had her scrambling to and fro. I was in control. It was my favorite place to be.

She waved a weary arm in defeat after I won the first set. "Break time!" she hollered across the court. Her lip curled sourly at my smug expression as I sprinted down the white tape boundary until we were near the wire fence exit.

"You know, I always used to wish for you to be a happier boy," she said between panting breaths. "I could always tell when you were feeling down, because you didn't give a damn whether you won or lost. But these days, you're annoyingly unstoppable. I should have been careful what I wished for."

I could only grin in acknowledgement. "I feel kind of unstoppable lately."

She shook her head amazement and grinned back. "I wonder if Bella has any idea the effect she's had on you. How much she brought you back to life."

"I like to think I hid my dysfunction pretty well, but she knew better. She knew all along." I flashed back to that first night at Billy's again; her eyes boring into mine after I had inadvertently revealed my deepest pain to her. And then I thought grimly of the fact that she had been able to replay my suffering on her iPod whenever she wanted.

"Maybe that's why she didn't give up on you," Katrina suggested. "Maybe she sensed how much you needed her."

"We needed each other," I corrected her. We ordered lemonades from the clubhouse and sat at an umbrella-covered outdoor table in the drowsy late-summer heat. I found myself pouring out the last forty-eight hours' chain of events: Rosalie's paranoid accusations, the near-accident it almost caused Bella, and the latter's guilt-ridden admission of how her mother died. Katrina's mouth dropped open wider in shock with each revelation.

"Holy shit," she finally exclaimed when I was finished. "No wonder you two were so drawn to each other. Two souls in need of the same kind of comfort. So she was probably more understanding than you ever dreamed she'd be about Tanya, right?"

My eyes fell sheepishly to my lemonade glass. I stabbed at the ice cubes with my straw in lieu of making a reply.

"Edward," Katrina admonished, her disappointment almost outweighed by her disapproval. "Haven't you told her anything?"

I finally met her gaze with a guilty one of my own.

"I don't believe it," she huffed. "You have a perfect opportunity to get some of that past guilt off your chest and find some peace. Why aren't you taking it?"

I shook my head in disagreement. "It's not the same. Bella lost her mother. I can't begin to know what that's like. And she was truly innocent of any wrongdoing-the whole thing was purely an accident. Whereas what I did was…." I trailed off, unable to take another step down that particular path on memory lane. If I couldn't talk to Kate about it again, how would I ever be able to tell the whole awful tale to the girl I loved?

"What you did was try to save Tanya the best way you knew how," Kate insisted. "You were not responsible for her actions."

"I was selfish. I wanted out, so I left. I didn't give a damn about the aftermath. And guess what? Fate and Karma took care of the rest."

"Don't do this," she warned, giving me that look I knew well. We'd had this discussion before, long ago. "You could not have predicted or controlled what happened. People have free will, and Tanya was no exception. You have got to stop taking the blame for her mistakes. I thought you had. If you don't put this to rest once and for all… let go of that misplaced guilt instead of carrying it around like a hundred-pound yoke on your back, it's going to grind you right back into the ground again. For God's sake, let Bella help you with it."

I looked into Kate's pleading blue eyes and couldn't help but think that she was woefully naïve. "Bella just now let go of her own guilt, and it took her six years to do it. I am not going to dump all my past bullshit on her and ask her to deal with that instead. I won't add one more bit of burden to her life. Not now. I won't be that selfish with her."

Katrina's sigh was both exasperated and resigned. She knew by my tone of voice that I would not be swayed. "Fine. But you need to think about something. Bella let you in on her darkest secrets and her own self-blame, because she trusted you not to judge her or turn your back on her. Don't you think she would welcome the opportunity to do that for you? After she bared her soul to you, imagine how she'll feel if you don't trust her enough to do the same."

"Of course I trust her," I insisted. "I am going to tell her, when the time is right."

Kate gave me a skeptical look. "The time is never going to be right, Edward. There will always be a convenient excuse not to get into it. But you'd better make sure you do it before she doubts your trust in her. If you wait too long, she'll start to ask all kinds of questions why."

Dread began to gnaw at my gut, and I knew it was because Katrina was right. I knew I was trying to spare myself as much as I was Bella. The truth was, I was afraid. Afraid to re-live the past when I'd spent three years trying to bury it. Afraid of Bella's reaction, no matter how sympathetic. Afraid that she'd never look at me the same way she did now.

"I'll tell her after her birthday," I said at last. I was surprised to hear the words myself. I wasn't sure where that deadline came from, but I knew it was only a couple of weeks away. "She'll be twenty-three on September thirteenth. I'll tell her the next day."

Kate reached across the table for my hand. I let her give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Even though I've only known Bella a short time, I know you won't be sorry you confided in her. She's crazy about you. You should see her face when she talks about you… all starry-eyed. It's so stinking cute," she grinned.

I managed a smile of my own at the thought. No wonder I was in no hurry to change that look in Bella's eyes.

"You did a nice job on her, by the way," I commented, subtly changing the subject. "I checked her out myself last week and again last night. Unofficially, of course."

"Of course. Well, you did all the groundwork. She's reached the maintenance stage now, I would say. That's why I didn't schedule an appointment with her today. But after that little accident she had Thursday, I'm glad to hear she's doing okay." Kate took a sip of lemonade and frowned. "What the hell is Rosalie's problem, anyway? I still don't get why she went behind Bella's back and cornered you that way. What did Emmett have to say about that?"

"I'm not sure how much he knows. I didn't get a chance to ask him about it yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out how to broach the subject. I kind of want to find out from him how much Rosalie is confiding in him. I don't trust her as far as I can throw her, and if she's keeping stuff from my brother, I think he should know about it."

"Really. So you think they should have full disclosure in their relationship, huh? That's an interesting double standard you've got, there, Edward," Kate said dryly, taking a long draught of her drink.

"Don't start with me again unless you want another ass-whooping on that court. I am prepared to beat you down. No mercy."

"You've already shown me no mercy. I lost our first set five-to-one. How much worse can it get?"

"Well, I can always beat you six-all in the next," I grinned.

"Hell, no. I'm not goin' out like that." She shoved her empty glass away, grabbed her racket and motioned to the court. I eagerly followed.

Katrina put up a valiant fight. I quickly found my groove again and she was no match for it. She managed to pull out a narrow win in the third game, but I bested her five out of six once more. I simply refused to let anything stand in my way now. Not Kate's brutal backhand, not Rosalie's paranoid accusations, not even the truth about you, Tanya. I'd deal with them all when the time came.

My phone was jangling with guitar riffs when I got out of the men's shower. I rapidly dug through my gym bag to find it, assuming it was Bella, only to be surprised to see Mom's number on my caller ID.

"Hey, Mom," I answered, toweling my hair dry with my free hand.

"How's my darling boy today?"

"Feeling victorious, actually. I just annihilated Katrina ten games to two."

"That's not very chivalrous," she clucked.

"Chivalrous? Clearly you've never seen her play. She usually hands me my ass and gloats about it the rest of the day. This was divine retribution."

"Edward," she said reprovingly of my language. Then her voice softened. "It's nice to hear you in such good spirits, though. Your father tells me the two of you had a good talk earlier this week."

"Yeah, we did," I admitted.

"Well, I'm glad. It was long overdue. I'm proud of you for trying to get past some of those old resentments."

I sighed, not wanting to get into this discussion. My reply was short. "It was time."

"I couldn't agree more," she said. She must have gotten the hint from my tone because she switched topics. "Your dad also said he mentioned to you that I'd like to have a little Labor Day get-together with the family before Alice goes back to school. I'd love it if you could bring Bella out to the house a week from Monday."

Uneasiness prickled down my back. "Who else did you invite?"

"Well, I invited your uncle, but the Platts are all going to a reunion on Liz's side of the family. So it will just be you and Bella, Alice and Jasper, and Emmett and Rosalie."

That last inclusion justified my uneasiness. I wasn't anxious to see Rosalie anytime soon, or ever, for that matter. But if my brother insisted on dating her, we'd better try to figure out how to get along.

"Sure, I'll check with Bella. She has to work at an outdoor music festival next Saturday, but I don't think she has any other commitments after that."

"Oh, good. This is the first time all three of my children have had significant others at the same time. I want to take advantage of the fact that all of you seem to be in happy relationships right now. This will be the perfect way to get to know them all better."

"You mean interrogate them under the guise of harmless party chatter?" I teased.

"I'll leave that to your father," she laughed, though that wasn't too far from the truth. I wasn't worried. I was fairly certain Bella would be the first girl I'd ever brought home of whom both my parents would fully approve. Rosalie was a different story. I wondered what they'd think of her if they knew how devious she really was.

I promised Mom I'd do my best to bring Bella to the party and she sounded grateful. As I hung up the phone, I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I'd been out to the house. The fact that it was across the Sound always seemed to be a convenient excuse not to visit. It still reminded me of the months I'd spent there after I quit school, living in a haze of self-condemnation while my parents gave me pitying looks and hesitantly asked every week if I'd been to counseling like I had agreed. I felt like telling them my psychiatrist was an idiot, and that so far, reliving every shitty and horrific thing that had happened did not seem to be expunging it from my psyche or my soul.

But instead I would avoid their sad, disappointed eyes and bury myself in my room like I did when I was a teenager. Writing songs. Practicing other people's songs. Writing letters that I could never send, making apologies that would never be heard. Wallowing.

No wonder I hated going home.

I called Bella from the car when I was halfway to her house. The sound of her voice was sweet relief. I asked her what she was doing.

"I just got out of the shower, actually," she informed me. "Who knew yoga and house-cleaning could work up such a sweat?"

"I'm glad you went to yoga with Alice like I suggested. She's always on me about monopolizing your time. I just got out of the shower, too, but hearing you talk about yoga makes working up another sweat sound much more appealing."

She ignored my innuendo. "I'm glad I went with Alice, too, believe it or not. I'm going to miss her when she goes back to school," she sighed. "I still hate the actual yoga class itself. But on the upside, I feel pretty limber right now. Pretty loose."

"Shall we put that to the test? I can think of a few positions we haven't tried yet."

"You and your one-track mind," she replied in exasperation. "One morning without sex and it's the first thing you bring up."

"You're the one who brought it _up_, if you catch my drift."

"It's hard to miss," she replied dryly. "So how did your tennis match with Kate go? Did you win?"

"Oh, I did so much more than win. I mopped the court with her. I smoked her ass ten games to two. The taste of victory is so, so sweet," I said with satisfaction. "Almost as sweet as your kisses. But not quite."

"Oh brother," she groaned. "So now you're trying to butter me up? Subtle."

"I am not trying to butter you up. Unless you like that sort of thing. I could switch to massage oil tonight and grease you up like a Slip-n-Slide. That could be fun. But a little hard on your bed sheets."

"Edward, please stop talking about sex. It's the middle of the afternoon."

"And this is a problem why, exactly?"

Her answering sigh sounded annoyed.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"I'm thinking!" she replied with a frustrated laugh.

"Exactly. There is no good reason not to have sex in the middle of the afternoon. I can see what I'm doing better."

"Oh my God." I could see her shaking her head in my mind's eye, cheeks reddening, wet hair brushing back and forth across her shoulder blades. I imagined winding it around my fingers… grasping and tugging at it while I fucked her from behind.

"Do you know what I'm thinking about right now?" The words came out low and throaty.

"I can guess," she answered. Her voice was lower, quieter, too. I wondered exactly what kinds of images were flashing through her mind.

"Do you remember that first night at your place? When you opened the refrigerator door to get me a drink… the way the light spilled out around you… the way those little boy shorts of yours were riding up your ass… I couldn't even think after that. I wanted you so badly, I thought I would lose my mind."

Her laugh was small, somewhat disbelieving. "If I'd known you were that easy, I would have worn boy shorts to all my massage appointments."

"No, I like those lace-edged panties. They always made me wonder about you… let me know that you were all woman underneath those concert t-shirts."

She let out an embarrassed-sounding laugh. "You were no better that night, you know. Standing there in nothing but your underwear when I turned around… geezus. I couldn't stop staring. I was so ready for you just take me on the countertop or bend me over the kitchen table. I wanted you just as much as you wanted me."

The sound of her voice was making me crazy. Whisper-light, tense with want.

"I think we deserve a do-over after what happened to me that night," I told her. "I'm almost at your place. Why don't you put on that outfit and wait for me in the kitchen."

She was quiet a moment. "Okay," she said at last.

My dick was already throbbing by the time I bounded up the stairs to Bella's duplex. I couldn't believe she had thought about me taking her from behind over the table. It was about time I made good on my promise to make her fantasies come true. The fact that I'd be fulfilling a few of my own in the process was icing on the cake.

She had left the front door unlocked. I bolted it behind me after entering, then tossed my gym bag on the floor and kicked off my shoes by the front door. I peeled off my t-shirt and shorts and tossed them next to my backpack on the couch. I crept toward the kitchen doorway, my heart beginning to pound, wondering what I would see.

My sweet, naughty girl did not disappoint. I arrived in the kitchen just in time to see her unfurl a clean cotton tablecloth over the round wooden table. She bent over to straighten and smooth it over the tabletop; the equivalent of shaking her tail feathers in my face, taunting me. Her underwear cut across her cheeks in the most maddening way possible. She wore the same pair as before, decorated with thin multi-colored stripes, and the same matching solid blue camisole on top.

I closed the space between us and my arms were wrapped around her before she could even stand upright all the way. She gasped as if she hadn't known I was there, but her hands were quick to grip my arms, holding me to her.

"Please, sir, I don't have any money, if that's what you're after," she trilled in a sing-song voice. "You're welcome to anything in the house. Just don't hurt me," was her mock plea.

I chortled softly at her little game. "I have no intention of hurting you. But I'm glad I have your permission to take whatever I want," I whispered, my lips brushing her earlobe. Goosebumps traveled down her neck and arms in response, and unadulterated lust surged through my veins at the proof of what I did to her. "I want you, and I intend to take you. You're what I came here for."

She whimpered softly as my lips traveled down her neck and I pulled her closer to me. I slid my hands underneath her shirt and slowly worked them upward, stroking every rib, then rubbing each breast until her nipples were hard against my fingers. She moaned, reached back and threaded her fingers through my hair as my mouth followed the crook of her neck to her shoulder. When I pulled up on the hem of her shirt, she let go so that I could remove it and toss it to a nearby kitchen chair.

She was soon captive in my arms again, my lips seeking hers and staking their claim. My tongue was quick to push its way into her mouth, but she was just as quick to grant me access. Her kisses were as hungry as mine and her hand clutched the side of my face, holding me in place as she leaned back against me, pressing her delectable ass against my straining boxer briefs. I was certain I would not be able to keep my hands off it for much longer.

"Do you welcome all intruders into your home this way?" I murmured between kisses.

"Only the really handsome, sexy ones," she replied with a grin, her play-façade beginning to crack.

"I don't know whether to be flattered that you find me sexy…" _kiss_… "or appalled at your carelessness." _Kiss, kiss. _"After all, I could be a lunatic for all you know. Some freak with God knows what kind of fetishes." My kisses traced the blush of her cheek before I concluded in her ear, "Maybe I should teach you a lesson about judging books by their covers." I let go of her and slid my hands down between us, grasping one buttock in each hand and giving them a squeeze.

"And how will you do that?" she whispered, her breath catching as I kneaded her flesh between my fingers.

She gasped loudly at the speed of my response. I yanked the cute little boy shorts down to her knees with my left hand and gave her ass a resounding slap across both cheeks with my right. She shrieked and her hands went down on the table in front of her at the impact, which only pushed her backside toward me. I stroked its pale, firm flesh and watched the pink rise to the surface. I prayed to God that she was as turned on by this as I was, because I knew I wasn't ready to stop.

"Does that answer your question?" I murmured as I leaned over her, placing both hands next to hers on the table. I loved the feel of her body under mine; the soft heat of her skin over the solid muscle and bone. "Have you learned your lesson? Or do I need to reinforce it further?"

Her only answer was the quickening of her breath and the tensing of her body beneath me. She pushed back against me, ever so subtly; and I knew she was bracing herself for more. She wanted more. I needed more.

And so I began Bella's slow, methodical spanking. I was careful not to really hurt her; to strike only hard enough to make her skin tingle and smart and ache for more. I smacked one cheek while gently massaging the other, then switched sides, back and forth, with rhythmic precision. I monitored the cries she emitted with each slap, making sure they were only of pleasure, not pain. That threshold was a fine line, and I was determined to not to cross it.

But as I struck and then smoothed each of her pink buttocks in turn, my cock ached at the glimpse I caught of the openings that lay between. I longed to possess her in every way possible; to invade every orifice of her body and make it mine. I could feel desperation beginning to creep into me as I gazed down at her prone form spread over the table before me, so sexy and vulnerable at once that I didn't know which I wanted more: to fuck her mercilessly, front and back, exactly as I pleased; or to protect her from the lust that was on the brink of surging out of my control.

My own breathing was labored by the time I stopped the spanking. I massaged her flushed cheeks gently under my fingers until I could no longer resist the sight of her glistening sex. I slid one hand between her buttocks until they met that sweet, wet spot. She groaned and her back arched, opening herself up to take my greedy fingers deep inside.

"It's shameful how wet you are for me," I reprimanded her gruffly, unwilling to end our little "intruder" game just yet. I worked my two middle fingers in and out of her at the same steady pace I'd used to spank her, and she whimpered in time with their thrusts. "Look how turned on you are when you don't even know what kind of kinky fuckery I might have planned for you. Did you look in my backpack, Miss Swan? Did you look to see what kinds of toys I brought with me this weekend?"

Her breath had quickened with every word, every invasion of my fingers; then sucked in sharply at my question.

"No, I didn't," she answered, her voice faltering. I could tell she wasn't sure this was a game anymore. Neither was I. It was beginning to feel more like a test.

"Why didn't you? I was away for hours."

She swallowed and looked over her shoulder, piercing my fevered gaze with a hard stare. The motion of my hand inside her stopped cold.

"Because I know what it feels like to have someone violate your privacy," she said quietly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

And just like that, my raging lust was put in check; my own urge to violate, quelled. I knew she was reminding me about the way Rosalie had rummaged through her belongings, and what the ramifications had been. I had secretly been hoping that she would rifle through my things, because I needed to find out what she would do when confronted with objects like handcuffs, vibrators and anal lubricant. I needed to know what her boundaries were.

I knew I'd been testing them now. Pushing her to see how far was too far. To discover what it would take for her to be disgusted with me and walk away. Sexual boundaries were just the tip of the iceberg; a litmus test for real trust. I needed to know that she would trust me no matter what I said or did; not just now, but in the past. A past I could not seem to outrun. A past that sought me out wherever I tried to hide, breathing down my neck, waiting to thwart all my progress and bleed its ugly stain over the both of us.

I couldn't let it win. I would do whatever it took to earn Bella's unconditional trust. The hard part would be surrendering mine to her.

My sigh caught in my throat, sounding almost like a sob. I looked down at the beautiful woman in front of me, exposed and utterly open to me, and the emotions that assailed me were nearly more than I could endure. I placed trembling hands on the small of her back, her most tender spot; the troubled part of her that had brought her to me in the first place. I gently traced the valley there, the swell at the top of her buttocks, and then the slope of her back up to her shoulders. I knelt over her and pressed my lips between her shoulder blades, then placed soft, reverent kisses up each vertebrae to the nape of her neck. She sighed, her head still turned toward me, her cheek resting on her forearm. My hand twisted in her damp hair, just like in my earlier fantasy. I marveled at the thick rope it made in my fist. But unlike in my fantasy, I didn't grab or pull. I was in awe of its luxurious feel between my fingers. I was so Goddamned grateful for the girl it was attached to that I nearly wept.

I swallowed back my emotion and kissed her gently on the cheek before whispering my pledge.

"This isn't a game to me. It never was. I want you to understand that you can trust me, no matter what. I am going to do everything in my power to earn it."

Her chocolate eyes glimmered in the overcast midday light that illuminated her through the kitchen window. In their depths, I saw every ounce of trust I could ever hope to have, already given freely regardless of whether or not I deserved it.

"You can't earn what's already yours," she said, an echo of a text she'd once sent me. Her eyes gave me permission; her words confirmed it. "Do what you want with me. I'll take my turn later."

I knew in that moment that she meant what she said. She had done far more than pass my test - she had rendered it null and void. I groaned and tightened my grip in her hair, kissing her beautiful face again, pressing the length of my body against hers. My cock was already where it wanted to be; it picked right up where my fingers had left off. I relished her moan as I filled her, and thrilled to the feel of her pushing back against me to take me in as deeply as possible. I raised myself on my hands for leverage as I pumped in and out of her, reveling in the exquisite sensation of being swallowed inside her, over and over. Once again I discovered that magical fusion of love and lust, making love to her with every sensual skill I possessed, fucking her with a single-minded fury of purpose. The table shook beneath us from the pounding I gave her. Her groans were as animalistic as mine, and when she came, her body quaked all around me with an intensity I knew I would live and die for, come again and again for.

I covered her back with kisses again, then smoothed my hands over her damp ivory skin before raising myself up. I gazed down at the vision of my cock still buried to the hilt inside her. I was sure she could never understand how beautiful the sight of us joined together was to me, nor the discontent I felt when I had to withdraw from her sweet warmth. Neither could she possibly comprehend my irresistible urge to fill her right back up again, as soon as I was physically able. I wasn't even sure I understood it myself. Did I need to possess her that much, that completely? Or did I simply want to lose myself inside her once more, in that blinding euphoria that momentarily eclipsed every dark shadow that plagued me?

I didn't know the answer. The only thing I knew for sure was that my own test was just beginning.


	33. Test, part 2

**I hadn't intended to post the rest of the "Test" chapter in two parts, but because it's become a bit of a monster, I decided I'd go ahead and post the first part. It's been too long since I updated already.**

**The good news is, the rest of the chapter is nearly done so the wait should be short. Also, it might contain the longest (that's what she said) lemon ever written, for better or worse. **

**Thanks to all my readers for your wonderful feedback - you keep me going. And thanks to Stephenie Meyer, who would probably faint from shock if she saw what I've done with her characters. ;-)**

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_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 29**

When Edward is sleeping, I can imagine what he must have looked like as a boy.

His furrows are smoothed, his fine lines softened into an untroubled landscape. His lips and cheeks are still translucent pink, eyelashes inordinately long. The hallmarks of a child's beauty still linger in the blueprint of his adult face. I long to see photographs of Edward when he was young and carefree, still unspoiled by life's harsher lessons.

That vestige of long-lost innocence held me in its spell as I watched him sleep on my sofa. The early-morning massage appointments, rigorous tennis match and punishing sex that followed had taken their toll. We had settled on the couch after our kitchen tryst, wrapped in a silent cocoon of each other's arms and our own thoughts, before Edward grew drowsy and I encouraged him to take a nap. He insisted I lay with him, and I was happy to oblige for awhile, feeling each breath he took rumble in his chest before stirring the hair on my neck.

I was wide awake, thinking. Pondering. Trying to figure out why Edward always pushed our boundaries in the sexual arena and nowhere else. Maybe that was the place where words weren't as important; where he could simply take action and be in control.

I wondered where he would have taken our game if I hadn't sucked the wind out of his sails. Did he really bring sex toys to my house this weekend? If so, what kind? I doubted they would be anything that would really shock me. I had already crossed the line with him that first night, when he literally had me up against the wall. In that telltale moment, I had made the decision that I would follow wherever he led me. I had given my body, my heart and my soul to him willingly. So what was he still fighting for?

I wasn't sure, but I had no doubt that he was struggling. The fear was in his eyes again. The same fear that Rosalie had once spoken of seeing when she looked at him - the fear I saw the first night I saw him sing. Something was changing . . . escalating. I felt the fear seeping into me through osmosis. But I wasn't afraid for myself. I was afraid for him.

I stroked the soft hair at his temple and touched my lips to his in butterfly kisses. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile and his arms tightened around me, but he didn't awaken. There was no greater feeling than the one I had in that moment, knowing that even unconsciously, I made him smile.

I wanted nothing more than to erase Edward's sadness; to make him forget whatever was plaguing him, at least for a little while. Having the power to do that, even temporarily, was not one I took lightly. He had done the same for me many times over. I was ready to do whatever he asked - or demanded - of me. I didn't feel ashamed of my acquiescence because I would be asking for his as well.

He had told me that sex was a two-way street - all about give and take. To me, every aspect of a relationship should to be that way, not just the sex. I was willing to give, and I expected him to do the same in return. He hadn't disappointed me so far.

Except for not revealing to me what was eating away at his soul, of course. I was torn between wanting to know everything about his past and enjoying my ignorant bliss awhile longer. I had the feeling this was one of those times when I should be careful what I wished for.

Hunger pangs began to gnaw at me as I lay wrapped in Edward's embrace. I looked over his shoulder to the clock on the wall and saw that it would soon be time for dinner. I decided that I should fix something substantial, because I was sure he would be ravenous when he awoke.

I also suspected that our evening was going to be an intense one. Like last Saturday night, I knew that he was not finished with me. This would be another weekend of exploration, of pushing boundaries and getting to know one another even more intimately.

"Bring it on, Mister Cullen," I whispered softly in his ear. "I'm ready for you."

He made a low, throaty sound but remained asleep. I chuckled a little as I tried to gently extricate myself from his grip, but as I slid out of his arms and let my feet drop to the floor, he scowled and grabbed for me in earnest.

"Where are you going?" he murmured, eying me through heavy lids.

"To make us some dinner. Don't get up. I'll wake you when it's ready."

The smile played at the corner of his lips again. "You are the most awesome girlfriend ever."

"Yes, I am, and don't you forget it."

"Impossible."

I pulled the nearby afghan over his shirtless torso before I kissed him on the tip of the nose and made my way to the kitchen.

The first thing I noticed was the tablecloth, wrinkled and completely askew from the primal acts that had taken place on its surface. I smoothed and straightened it out of habit, then realized with chagrin that it needed to be thrown in the hamper after having my naked body thrust repeatedly against its surface.

Goosebumps rose on my skin at the memory. It wasn't a regretful shudder, but a delicious shiver. I wondered why I didn't feel more humiliated at being spanked like a child before being fucked like a whore. Or maybe I did feel humiliated, but perversely enjoyed the debasement. Perhaps on some deeply subconscious level, I felt I deserved the punishment, for transgressions long gone but not forgotten. And maybe Edward was provoking me into retaliation - waiting for me to strike back and give him the treatment he thought he deserved.

I tried now to dissect what I'd been feeling as Edward's slaps to my ass had continued, methodical and deliberate, hard and unrelenting. The resulting sensations had forced me to teeter on the knife's edge between pleasure and pain until the line between them began to blur, one becoming indistinguishable from the other.

I'd been undeniably turned on by his show of dominance. My groin was throbbing with want and thick with cream by the time he impaled me with his cock. I had felt like a cat in heat, panting to be taken, reveling in the sensation of his body possessing mine. Every hard slap of his torso against my ass was reminiscent of the smacks from his hands - pushing my body to the brink of pain with the intensity of its pleasure. He liked bringing me to the edge; dangling me there on the precipice until I fell with him, always on the side of ecstasy.

I had enjoyed teasing him too, the times I had gone down on him. Giving and withholding pleasure; making him wait until I was ready for him to come. Was that so different than what he had done to me this afternoon? We were already mastering the art of give and take, yet Edward still seemed intent on testing our limits.

Fine. I could test his limits, too. I had the feeling that's what he was after anyway, when all was said and done. He was waiting for me to push back.

As I began poking around in the refrigerator, I decided that I was probably over-thinking things. I doubted Edward had ever sat around analyzing our sex life thus far. He had probably reasoned it down to the basic fact that he loved fucking me, and I loved it too. We should just enjoy ourselves, do whatever felt good and forego whatever didn't. My life would probably easier if I thought like a man more often.

After a quick inventory of the kitchen, I discovered I had the ingredients to make a simple version of Italian chicken with some rice pilaf and veggies on the side. I hummed contentedly to myself the entire time I prepared the meal. I like cooking for Edward, just as I did for Charlie. Men are so easy to please in that respect. They always seem inordinately grateful for even the simplest offering.

Chicken in the oven, broccoli and rice on the stove, I left the kitchen unattended for a moment to throw on some real clothes. I refused to sit at the table and eat dinner in my underwear, regardless of the fact that they might be coming off again right after the meal. Besides, this pair was ruined with the evidence of our last bout of love-making.

As I threw them in the hamper along with the kitchen tablecloth, I prayed again that my birth control pills had been doing their job this past week. I had gone from zero to one-eighty in the sex department in just eight days. When I stopped to think about how much sex I'd been having, I was a little stunned. Was that normal for a couple who had just gotten together? I supposed it was. Sort of the "honeymoon" phase of a new relationship.

Then again, since when did Edward and I ever qualify as "normal" anyway?

The cooking smells permeating the apartment must have awakened him, because he was standing next to the sofa, yawning and stretching, when I emerged from the bedroom. He looked more like a lion than ever, mane awry in every direction, ubiquitous scruff sprouting from his face and neck.

He was magnificent.

"You knock me out," I whispered, half to myself, as our eyes met.

"What's that?" he asked as he approached, arms outstretched to me.

"Nothing. I'm a lucky girl, that's all," I sighed as I allowed myself to be enfolded in his embrace. I hugged him close and laid my cheek against his chest, taking comfort in the beat of his heart beneath my ear.

"Always backwards," he teased softly, his fingers stroking my hair. "Especially when I wake up to delicious smells like this. I can't believe you cooked for me again."

"Why wouldn't I? We have to eat. And I have yet to see you attempt anything more than a sandwich." I grinned up at him, and the sight of him so close nearly knocked me out again.

"I'm going to fix my grilled salmon for you sometime, and make you eat your words along with it." He grinned back down at me as his hands gently cupped the sides of my face, then combed through the hair behind my ears. His touch still undid me completely. I wondered if I would ever be immune.

"Promises, promises," I said with a slight roll of my eyes.

"Hey, that's how I got Lucky to stick around. Maybe it'll work on you, too."

I shook my head in exasperation. "I think your other methods have already done the trick."

He answered with only a self-satisfied "hmm" before giving me a sweet, languorous kiss. It was all I could do to pull away from him to go check on dinner. He tagged along close behind, his hand refusing to relinquish my waist. He hovered over my shoulder as I checked on the chicken, then peered down into the dishes while I stirred and seasoned them some more.

"Looks great," he said appreciatively. "I'm famished."

"I wonder why," I retorted with the quirk of an eyebrow as I turned to face him. My eyes raked over his long leanness, clad only in slate gray boxer briefs.

"Why don't you put on some clothes for dinner?" I suggested as my gaze hovered helplessly over his bare torso in my face. "Unless you want me to end up using you as my plate."

His eyebrows shot up and that irresistible smirk possessed his mouth. "Funny you should mention that. I have very special plans of that nature for dessert."

A surge of adrenaline raced through me as I raised questioning eyes to his.

"You still haven't snooped in my backpack, have you?" he asked. He sounded almost annoyed. "How many hints does a guy have to drop?"

I ignored the familiar little dance my nerves were doing down my spine and through my groin. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, "Don't worry. I plan to do a thorough inspection after dinner. You're obviously dying for me to find out just how perverted you really are."

His grin was truly devilish then, even while he feigned innocence. "I'm not perverted at all. I'm only interested in giving you complete and unadulterated pleasure."

Sweet Jesus. "You already do that," I informed him, as if he didn't already know.

"Oh, I'm just getting started," he murmured, leaning closer and giving me a look so provocative that I was ready to disrobe and have a go with him on the countertop next.

"I'll bet you are," I answered hoarsely before I gave him a gentle shove. He really did need to take his naked, smirky, sexy self away from me before dinner was ruined. I wondered if he had any idea how deeply he affected me, even more so now that we were intimate. His nearness was almost more than I could take sometimes.

Edward let out a defeated sigh, then went to the living room to retrieve his clothes while I set the table. By the time he returned, I was pulling the chicken from the oven. He helped me carry the dishes to the table, then sat down and filled his plate with enough rations to feed a small platoon.

"Do you want a salad, or bread, or fruit or anything?" I asked him, worried that I hadn't fixed enough food.

"No, I'm fine. This is so good," he mumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

"Okay," I said with a small laugh. Even after Charlie's roughest days on the police beat, he never ate this much. But I liked the fact that Edward had stopped having impeccable manners in front of me. It wasn't in him to be a slob, but he was clearly comfortable enough to chow down when he was hungry and not worry about what I thought.

"Is something wrong?" he asked me.

"No. Why?"

"You're not eating," he pointed out. Then, suddenly, he bolted from his chair. "Shit, I forgot the wine. I'm sorry," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the living room again. Apparently wine was one of the weekend provisions he'd brought with him.

"That's fine, we don't need it," I hollered after him, but he was already back and fishing glasses out of the cabinet by the time I was done.

"Of course we do. A dinner this good deserves a nice glass of wine to go with it," he insisted.

I shrugged and decided maybe a couple of drinks would be a good idea before I faced the more questionable contents of Edward's backpack. I thanked him as he set two generous glassfuls on the table and settled back in his chair.

"By the way, where did that nice tablecloth go?" he teased, referring to the bare wood tabletop.

"I thought that perhaps it would be in poor taste to eat dinner off of it after we just had sex on it."

He crooked his half-grin at me and said, "I would have had absolutely no problem with that."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know me well," he smiled. It was that secret sort of smile only a lover can give. The kind that causes all sorts of tingles and flutters to invade various parts of my body.

It was also the kind that suddenly made me ask myself, how well _do_ I know him? My split second of uncertainty at the answer brought on flutters of an entirely different nature.

He didn't seem to notice my uneasy pause. "Let's make a toast to that," he suggested, raising his wine glass.

"To what, exactly?" I asked, lifting my glass to his.

"To knowing each other even better," he said. His eyes seemed to be searching mine for something. Or maybe offering me something instead.

"To knowing each other completely." I gave him a pointed look as I clinked my glass against his.

He hesitated briefly before echoing me. "Completely."

We continued to stare at each other as we sipped and swallowed to seal the deal.

"So, what are you doing for Labor Day?" he asked in an offhand manner, as if changing the subject wasn't a relief for him.

I had to stop and think. "A week from Monday, right? Well, I guess I'll still be recovering from the music festival on Saturday," I said with a laugh. I was actually looking forward to my first real find for Java Noise headlining a big local show. I could feel that Vegan Vamps were on the verge of a breakthrough beyond the local scene, and a lot was riding on their performance next Saturday night.

"Right," Edward said in acknowledgement. "So, how would you feel about recovering with me at my parents' house that day?" he asked hesitantly.

"You mom and dad want us to come over?" My heart leapt a little at the prospect. Surely Edward wanting me to spend more time with his family was a good sign. And the fact that they liked me enough to invite me into their home had to be a good sign, too.

"Yeah, you know my mom. Any occasion to throw a little party and she's all over it like white on rice," he said with a fond chuckle. "She wants all of us kids to bring our significant others over for a barbecue or something. It's kind of a send-off for Alice before she goes to grad school. What do you think?"

I could feel my face practically beaming. "I think that sounds great. I'd love to come. I'm going to miss Alice, though," I added.

"I will, too" he said wistfully. "Except when she's being a colossal pain in my ass," he amended with a grin. His smile faded a little and he gave me a concerned look. "Rosalie's invited, too. I hope that won't be too awkward."

I bristled slightly and took a couple sips of wine. "I guess I'll have to wait and see how this week goes at work before I get too worried about it. I'm still blown away at what she did. What does Emmett think about the stunt she pulled?" I wondered suddenly.

Edward frowned. "I haven't spoken to him yet. I'm curious to know if she even told him. Surely she did. She'd have to know that if she didn't, I would."

"Well, if she's not honest with him at this stage in their relationship, there's not much hope for their future together," I commented. "I mean, she can't keep something that big from him and think she'll get away with it."

Edward's frown deepened, and his eyes grew distant as he stabbed at his food with his fork.

_What are you hiding from me? _I wondered. _How bad could it be? Don't you know that I'll love you no matter what?_

I could feel the words on the edge of my tongue, waiting to be spoken. But as he continued to avoid my gaze by concentrating intently on his meal, I knew I couldn't utter them. I didn't want to push. Fate would eventually force his hand, just as it had mine when I'd nearly killed Lucky and could no longer keep my past trauma inside. All I could do now was be there for him when he reached the tipping point.

"You're Emmett's brother," I continued. "She has to know that you two will talk. I'd love to hear her explanation to him for why she railroaded you the way she did."

Edward finally raised guarded eyes to mine. "I think I'm just going to drop a couple of hints the next time I see him, to find out how much he knows. Hopefully Rosalie came clean on her own. I don't think I should be the one to do it for her."

I decided it was time to steer the conversation away from this sore subject. "Well, regardless of what's going on with her, I'm looking forward to spending some time with your family. I like your mom and dad. I want to get to know them better."

Edward finally smiled at that. "I'm sure the feeling is mutual. Brace yourself for the inquisition."

I only laughed. "You have the weirdest view of your parents. They've been nothing but nice to me so far."

"And I'm sure they'll continue being perfectly polite while they grill you about your long-term life goals, and how many kids you'd like to have one day," he warned with a grin.

"Well, that's easy: work my way up to being President of Java Noise, then have two-point-five kids."

"I'm glad you have it all figured out," Edward said with an impressed-looking raise of his eyebrows. "Let's nix the half-a-child idea, though, okay? We don't need that kind of challenge."

_We. _He was talking about a long-term future in terms of "we." First came his teasing about marriage, and now children? We'd been dating a mere week. But as Edward and I exchanged that secret smile again, I couldn't imagine wanting those things with anyone else.

We kept the conversation light during the rest of dinner. Edward asked if it was okay to bring the gang to the Seattle Music Fest next weekend if they promised not to bug me while I was working. I assured him that there wasn't a lot for me to do except make sure that everything was running smoothly between Vegan Vamps and the event promoters. Rosalie and I would see to it that the band got their allotted sound check time and were able to set up properly for the show. We would be there for trouble-shooting more than anything else. The band's management would take care of a lot of the hands-on work.

By the time I was done explaining our duties and describing how excited I was to see my first pet project headline a festival, Edward had cleaned his plate. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, grinning and staring me down with those penetrating eyes of his.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally demanded as I finished up my own dinner.

"I love how excited you get when you talk about your work," he smiled. "You have such passion for what you do. It's one of my favorite things about you."

I gave him an embarrassed smile back. "That's one of my favorite things about you too, you know. You care about what you do, and it shows. I'm living proof."

For a brief moment, he looked as if he was going to argue with me about it. But then he said simply, "Thanks."

I began cleaning up the dishes and Edward was quick to help me carry them to the sink. He offered to help me wash them, but I suggested we leave them for later. I didn't want to do chores. I wanted to drink more wine and find out what he was planning for this mysterious "dessert" of his, which apparently involved one or both of us being used as the serving dish. I allowed my mind to wander a little further down that decadent road now that supper was finished and night was falling.

"Thank you for feeding me, by the way. That was delicious," he declared, wrapping his arm around my waist and leaning down for a peck on the cheek. "It was so good I almost didn't leave room for dessert."

"The operative word being 'almost,' right?" I replied with an askance look up at him.

"I always have room when it comes to my appetite for you," he replied suggestively as he steered me toward the living room.

"Hmm. So are you trying to tell me that I'm the last course?"

"That's the plan. But I'll need your complete cooperation in order for it to work," he said, in that mildly ominous tone he liked to drape in velvet so that it was more agreeable.

"You mean, my submission?" I clarified. We were nearing the couch now, where Edward's belongings lay.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk. "Only for a little while. And then I'll give you mine."

I bit my lip, unable to quell my rising apprehension. Or was it excitement? The blood was pulsing between my legs as I sat down on the sofa, next to the backpack. Edward sat on the other side. We looked at the innocent black nylon bag, then at each other.

"Okay, let's see what we have here," I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. I unzipped the backpack and looked down at what appeared to be nothing but a couple changes of clothing. I reached in and pulled out jeans, t-shirts and briefs, uncovering two zipped bags at the bottom of the backpack. Inspection of the first revealed that it contained the usual mundane toiletries. My heart began to thud erratically as I pulled out the second bag and slowly opened it.

A glint of shiny silver was the first thing I saw as I drew back the zipper. The round, connected circles of metal that met my eyes were quickly identifiable as handcuffs. My heart picked up its pace as the reality of what was about to happen began to set in.

I gingerly pulled them out and dangled them between us while Edward warily studied my face, waiting for my reaction.

"Handcuffs," I managed to comment, trying to sound blasé. "You really own a pair of handcuffs?"

"Two pair, actually," he replied smoothly, glancing at the bag. "One for each hand. They should work well with your headboard."

My heart was racing now, as were my thoughts. I peered down into the bag and sure enough, the second pair was right there on top. I removed them from the bag and set them with their mate on top of the coffee table. I took a deep breath and looked to see what else he had in store for me.

Something encased in a zip-lock bag was next. I grasped the bag in slightly trembling fingers and pulled it out into the light where I could see the contents.

I was greeted with the sight of a pale pink vibrator. It consisted of a smooth, slender wand attached to a handle with a multi-speed switch on it. I stared at it a moment, immediately wondering what he planned to do with it. Its girth was nowhere near that of his own penis, which made me suspect he was not interested in stimulating my vagina with it.

I raised a knowing eyebrow at him, but his face remained a mask of anxious expectation. He was waiting for me to finish.

There were only two more items in the bag. The first answered my question about the vibrator, because it was a tube of personal lubricant. The second made me laugh out loud.

"Hershey's chocolate syrup?" I exclaimed. It was so ordinary, so harmless-looking compared to the other sex props that I couldn't help but erupt in nervous laughter. Suddenly the picture of what he wanted to do became perfectly clear.

"It reminds me of your eyes," he said with a cautious smile.

"My eyes?" I said with a humorous snort. But when I looked up at Edward, I could see he was serious.

"I think it will look good on you," he said softly, seductively. "And taste even better."

My heart picked up its pace again as I began to anticipate Edward's fantasy come to life. I looked for a way to relieve some of my anxiety, so I reverted back to false bravado.

"So this is it?" I asked him, waving the empty bag in the air before setting it on the coffee table with the other toys. "I'd say you showed remarkable restraint. There are no whips or gags, no cock rings or butt plugs here," I said cavalierly. I'd never even seen any of those things in person, let alone used them. But the second or two of shock on Edward's face was worth the outrageous comment.

He composed himself quickly. "I left those at home this time," he joked, although I wasn't absolutely certain he was kidding. I decided to voice my suspicions.

"I'm surprised you forgot the plugs, considering what a butt fetish you have."

His eyes narrowed at me. I wondered if he would deny it, but I knew it was true.

"I have a Bella fetish," he replied diplomatically. "I love all your parts equally."

"That's very politically correct of you, Mr. Cullen," I said. "But I happen to know you are especially enamored of my ass."

He took a breath and tried to stifle his grin. "It's a very sweet ass. I won't deny it."

I decided to be candid, since we were about to embark on a journey into new territory and I really had nothing - or maybe everything - to lose.

"So why didn't you try it earlier? In the kitchen," I questioned.

"Try what?" he replied obtusely. He wanted me to say it out loud.

I decided to skip being vulgar and put it in clinical terms. "Why didn't you try to have anal sex with me? I know you want to."

His gentle smile was almost patronizing. "Because I would have hurt you, and you never would have let me near your ass again."

I thought back to the pornos that Mike had made me watch. It had always looked so easy; not really painful. Edward obviously caught my quizzical expression because he continued to explain.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's a very big difference between the size of my finger and the size of my dick," he said, as if I were a simpleton. My irritation rose, just like it had the first day in his office when he had spoken to me that way.

"So you don't think my ass can handle it?" I said crossly.

He let out a short laugh. "I know your ass can't handle it. Yet," he said. Then his tone grew more serious. "But I'd like to work up to it, if you're willing. If you want to."

I looked over at the pink vibrator again and understood his logic. Its size appeared to split the difference between what I was used to and what he hoped I'd get used to. I realized I was as curious as I was nervous about that particular sexual frontier. I knew that I would end up trusting him as I always had, and that most likely I wouldn't be sorry.

He reached out and took my face in his hand, stroking my jaw with his thumb. "If you don't want to do something, you don't have to. Just tell me and we'll stop. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that," I assured him. "I want to be open-minded. I want to make you happy."

He scowled and his eyes flashed with anger. "No. Don't do anything just to make me happy. Whatever you decide, do it to make yourself happy. That's all I want. I want you to feel amazing, and get off on whatever we try. Otherwise, forget it."

I tried to explain myself better. "But Edward, a relationship is about compromise. I like doing things to make you happy, just like you do for me. I feel safe with you and I want to try new things with you. I want you to get off just as much as you want me to. I won't know if I like something until I try it."

His hand continued to stroke my face; his eyes did the equivalent with their gaze.

"You have to tell me immediately if you want me to stop," he ordered.

"I will," I promised earnestly. And then, a little less so: "Bossy."

His eyes took on a wicked gleam. "Name-calling is grounds for the handcuffs, you know."

"Am I in trouble?" I murmured, sensing a new game beginning. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice dropping, becoming huskier. "But I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to detain you for awhile."

"I won't answer any questions without my lawyer present," I declared. "And don't even think about frisking me. You lay one hand on me and I'll make you pay."

"I look forward to your retaliation, Miss Swan," he murmured, his face dangerously close, lips nearly touching mine. Then, right as I was about to give in to his kiss, he turned abruptly and scooped all the sex props back into their container.

I had no time to react as he zipped the bag, tucked it under his arm, then turned and hoisted me over his shoulder. He stood up from the couch and hauled me, caveman-style, to my bedroom while I shrieked in mock protest. He then tossed me unceremoniously on the bed and was on top of me in seconds, ensconcing himself between my legs.

"It's no use fighting," he purred, his lips inches from mine. "I have reason to believe that you're a thief. I intend to search you thoroughly until I can prove that you've stolen something of mine."

"And what's that?" I retorted, wrapping my arms and legs around him rather than struggling.

"My heart," he said with a cheesy grin.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Does that line actually work on anyone?"

"You'll have to let me know," he replied, still grinning. And then, suddenly, his mouth captured mine, and all laughter stopped. His tongue was probing and insatiable - searching, just as he had promised.

We gasped for air when he finally broke away. "You do have my heart," he said, not joking this time. "And my soul, my body, even my thoughts . . . They're all about you." He kissed me again, still hungry. My kisses in return were just as greedy. I moaned and writhed beneath him, burying my fingers in the thicket of his hair.

"I'd say it's an even trade," I gasped the minute he pried his lips away. "It's only fair when you own me completely."

"Do I?" he asked, his eyes imploring for a moment before his wicked smirk returned. "Then you won't mind if I strip-search you for evidence."

He began pulling at my clothes then; t-shirt up, shorts down. His hands stroked my bare limbs; lips and tongue and teeth nipped at my neck and chest. I yanked at his clothes too, determined to reveal his bare flesh as quickly as he had mine. He helped me along, throwing our t-shirts in unison to the floor before pushing my camisole toward my shoulders. I raised my arms obediently so that he could draw the fabric over them and toss it atop our shirts.

His mouth closed over my left breast immediately, knotting the flesh of my nipple thoroughly with his teeth and tongue before capturing the right breast and repeating the motion. My fingers tore into his hair and kneaded his scalp while I rocked beneath him, pushing my body against his. His lips traveled south, tongue leaving a wet trail on his way to the boy shorts.

"And what might you be hiding in here, Miss Swan?" he asked, pulling at the waistband. "I'm afraid you've left me no choice but to perform a body cavity search."

Down came the fabric, over my hips, my buttocks, my thighs, my calves, my feet. I lay naked before him while his eyes caressed me from my feet upward, his hands slowly following. Something between a sigh and a moan escaped me when his touch reached my groin.

"Don't worry. I promise I'll be gentle," he murmured as he smoothed his hands over my abdomen. My legs began to open instinctively, welcoming his probing fingers. They stroked me up and down, parting my labia, seeking the slick spot and making it slicker. My hips tilted upward into his touch, pulling his fingers inside; my head fell back as I groaned with pleasure.

"Of course, maybe gentleness is overrated. Maybe you require a firmer hand." I moaned again at his words before I even felt the unbearable sensation of his fingers plunging deeper, curling into me, and stroking me with quick, firm motions. I grasped the pillow behind my head and dug my fingers into it as his hand intensified its movements. I was practically sobbing by the time he slowed, kneeling over me to whisper in my ear.

"I definitely think I've left something of mine here before. Deep inside you." His lips brushed my ear lobe gently; his fingers moved languidly in and out of my body now, drawing a deep gasp from my lungs with each penetration.

"I don't want it back," he continued quietly. "I'd stay inside you forever if I could. You feel like home to me." He kissed me tenderly on the cheek and I wanted to cry at the emotions swirling through me. I reached up and took his face in mine, pushing him back slightly so that I could look into his eyes.

"You are home," I whispered.

His gaze reflected every emotion back at me before he kissed me hungrily. I reached down and tugged at the closure of his cargo shorts, slipping my hand inside to grasp his erection the minute the zipper came down. I stroked him in time with his fingers inside me, our rhythm growing faster as we panted softly, still lost in each other's eyes.

He finally squeezed his shut with a groan and withdrew from me. "Not yet," he whispered, pulling away from me. I bit my lip to stifle my disappointment as he got off the bed. He let his shorts fall to the floor and pushed his briefs down after them. I loved the sight of his cock springing free, pointing at the object of its lust on the bed before him.

He moved to the head of the bed and pulled one of my pillows to the middle of the mattress, propping it vertically against the headboard. He gently tugged at the pillow under my head; I lifted myself up so that he could remove it and layer it over the first. My heart began to race because I knew what he was doing. I scooted back toward the cushion he had created for me and reclined against it, half-sitting, half-lying against the slope of pillows.

It was time for the handcuffs.


	34. Test, part 3

**As promised, the rest of the chapter, after that cruel cliffie I left you with the other day. Mature readers only, please.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, August 29 (cont'd.)**

My heart thrashed wildly in my chest as he headed for the innocent zipper bag and removed the guilty-looking restraints from within. Handcuffs in hand, he crawled on the bed, then over my body, straddling me, holding me in place beneath him. My breaths came in shallow spurts as I looked up at him, searching his eyes. His expression was so intense that I wasn't even sure what I saw there. But I knew that beyond the primal lust lay something else . . . something that told me I could trust him.

I barely realized that I was already holding my arms aloft, in position, waiting. Offering myself up to him. He finally tore his gaze from mine and let his eyes travel down the length of my right arm before his hands followed. He slid the first open cuff around my wrist, careful not to pinch the skin as he closed it shut. I flinched slightly at the clink of metal on metal, encasing my flesh. Edward was too intent on what he was doing to notice.

He lifted my arm gently to the top rail of my antique headboard so that he could close the other cuff around it. At the snap of the metal closure, my wrist was secured in place, arm dangling helplessly below. He had not placed my arm so high that it was uncomfortable, but the sensation of the hard steel restricting my wrist was . . . strange. I wasn't sure what I felt.

Edward's eyes looked to mine, gauging, waiting for my permission. I could not slow my breath, but I kept my gaze steady and determined. Satisfied, he turned his attention to my left wrist, binding it to the headboard along with its mate.

I shuddered slightly at the realization that half my limbs were now rendered useless: unable to struggle, unable to caress; unable to do anything but give in. As I pulled at the cuffs, I realized that along with my helplessness, I felt something else altogether. Something almost infuriating in its inappropriateness.

Arousal.

As I lay pinned under Edward's body weight, completely at his mercy, I felt a fire burn hotter through my belly than it ever had before. I was shocked at how much I wanted him to take me; to play with my body and toy with me until I was nothing but a bundle of raw nerves in his hands. The anticipation of what he might do to me made my next breath come out in a whimper.

Edward knelt down, his face close to mine. His hand caressed my cheek as he looked to me for approval again.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

I nodded mutely, as if my tongue were restrained along with my wrists.

"It feels good to give in, doesn't it?" he continued, leaning closer and pressing his lips to my face.

I nodded again and squirmed beneath him.

"You trust me to make you feel good, don't you?" His voice was hypnotic, his breath hot on my lips as he hovered over me.

"Yes," I finally uttered with a shaky breath of my own.

The corners of his mouth turned upward in a satisfied grin as he nuzzled his face to mine. I lifted my neck to nuzzle back, unable to show affection any other way.

"God, how I love you," he sighed before closing his mouth over mine. Our tongues swirled in a decadent dance together, his hands free to roam my face and then my body as it writhed in response.

His lips broke away from mine and he raised himself off of me, scooting back on the bed and resting on his haunches between my legs. He violated me with his eyes first, letting them wander lazily over every part of my body. His hands repeated the process then, running up and down my torso, stroking, squeezing, thumbing my nipples, fingering my clit. He touched me wherever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, while my cheeks flamed with pleasure and my mouth made wanton noises to match.

He had my ankles raised to his shoulders, his mouth tonguing its way down my left calf, when he finally spoke.

"This would taste even better with a little embellishment." His eyes gleamed with mischief.

I bit my lip, unable to produce a witty comeback. I knew he was about to cover me in chocolate and lick me clean, and I couldn't wait. I was nearly desperate for him to begin.

He released my legs and lowered them to the bed.

"I'll be right back," he announced as he jumped up and left the room.

I lay bewildered and cold with shock at the removal of his warm hands from my body. I let my wrists hang limply in their cuffs for a moment and tried to slow my breathing, to calm myself before the next assault. I was amazed how the simple act of removing my free will had heightened my senses and made every nerve twitch with an agony of anticipation.

Edward returned shortly with a large glass of water, a fresh goblet of wine and a wad of paper towels in hand.

"In case things get a little messy," he explained with the ghost of a grin.

He set the paper towels on the bed and the water glass on the nightstand, then sat down next to me. He brought the wine glass to my lips and tilted it carefully so that I could take a sip. I had barely swallowed when he pressed his lips to mine, pushing his tongue inside to taste the remnants of the cabernet.

"Delicious," he sighed, and I sighed along with him. I felt unbelievably high, and the wine itself had nothing to do with it. It was the way he fed it to me and drank it from my mouth that made my desire swell.

His hand cradled my face and he looked deeply into my eyes.

"Do you know what I thought the first time I saw your face?" he asked.

I shook my head dumbly. I was beginning to think that he might as well have gagged me, because when he'd rendered my hands useless, he's somehow done the same to my tongue.

"I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen," he told me, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "Like two enormous drops of Hershey's syrup. Sweet, glistening chocolate."

I let out a short, nervous laugh, shaking my head. _And I thought your eyes looked like an untamed sea. I still do._

He reached for the squeeze bottle of Hershey's syrup and uncapped the top. "I used to fantasize about this early on. Before I'd ever even held your hand."

I faintly shook my head again, still stunned to hear these types of admissions.

"I never dreamed you even thought of me outside the office," I mumbled, finally finding my tongue.

He smiled and pulled up the plastic button of the squirt bottle. "I made you come a hundred times in my mind before I ever kissed you. But of course, my imagination was nowhere near as good as the real thing. It never is."

He crawled over the bed and positioned himself between my legs again, looking down at me as I sat helplessly staring up at him. He pulled me down a little further on the mattress so that I was lying more than sitting, and my arms were pulled a little tauter as a result.

"Where to begin?" he murmured as he pointed the container of Hershey's at my chest. He squeezed the bottle and a splash of cool syrup hit my skin. I gasped at the temperature, then giggled as the chocolate fluid tickled me while dribbling down between my breasts.

His crooked grin made a brief appearance before he knelt down and ran his tongue up the chocolate stream, lapping at it until it disappeared. I shivered at the sensation and braced myself for more.

Next he aimed for my right nipple, covering it in a dark river that began running slowly from the peak in every direction. I turned my body slightly, pushing my breast upward as best I could to keep the chocolate from dripping under my arm and down onto my sheets. Edward chuckled at my efforts and dove to the rescue, his tongue damming the syrupy flood before it did any damage. He licked and sucked up every drop, leaving my breast sticky and quivering with pleasure by the time he moved on to the other.

He repeated the procedure on my left nipple, grinning with satisfaction while my body twisted sideways to prevent the chocolate rivulets from reaching my sheets. Once again he waited until the last minute before lapping the sweet liquid from my skin and sucking my nipple into a rigid peak under his tongue.

He took great delight in working his way down my body this way, stopping for drinks of water in between drafts of Hershey's. He painted chocolate hearts on my belly and arrows on my thighs, which pointed, then slithered, toward my groin when he lifted my legs vertically in the air and held them there. And each time he would smile with smug satisfaction as he cleaned the chocolate from my skin before it could run beneath my body.

He paused after he'd devoured the arrows from my thighs, gazing at the waiting flesh between them. My sex throbbed with desire and my wrists strained in frustration.

"You know, I always thought I wanted to fill you up with this syrup and then lick every drop out of you," he pondered as he held the bottle of chocolate sauce inches away from my helpless snatch. "But I don't want to do anything to spoil your flavor. You're still the best thing I've ever tasted. This stuff pales in comparison."

He leaned over to set the syrup bottle on the nightstand, but then brought it back to my mouth instead.

"Do you want a taste?" he whispered.

I nodded, mute again.

"Stick out your tongue," he commanded.

I felt silly, but did his bidding. He squeezed the bottle over the tip of my outstretched tongue, filling it with chocolate - too much chocolate. Most of it dripped off my tongue and landed on my chest, while the rest dribbled from the corners of my mouth down my face.

Edward made an animal noise as he caught my tongue between his lips, sucking the syrup off of it before enveloping my whole mouth. We both giggled and groaned in unison as we shared a rich, velvety-sweet kiss, lapping chocolate from each other until nothing but sticky residue remained. He licked the last bit of sauce from my chest, then offered me a drink of water, tilting the glass carefully to my lips once again.

"Thank you," he whispered in my ear, again kissing my cheek gently. "That was the best dessert I've ever had, bar none."

"I think it was mine, too," I replied shakily. "Until I do the same to you, that is."

His eyes flickered hopefully at me. "I look forward to it," he said. "But I'm not quite done with you yet."

We both took a deep breath. Edward trailed his fingertips up my arms, then grasped my hands gently in his.

"Are you okay? Is this too uncomfortable for you?"

"No," I answered honestly. "I almost forgot I even have hands."

His smile was pleased. "Giving up control allows you to feel things in a way you never would otherwise," he said in the irresistible Sex Voice. "The unpredictability is exciting. You've always liked it. That's why I thought you'd like this." He massaged my hands and wrists gently, then reached over and planted several kisses along one arm, then the other.

My breathing became erratic as he moved nearer my face, his lips hovering tantalizingly over mine for a moment.

"Are you ready to come now?" he asked. His bedroom eyes bored into mine, announcing that he intended to make me.

"I'm always ready for that," I whispered hoarsely. I lifted my mouth toward his, seeking his kiss. He responded with a deep and thorough plunder of my mouth. My heart pounded, knowing that my pussy was next.

True to form, he moved south, hands and mouth exploring and caressing until they came to rest between my legs. My groin throbbed with desire, and when he fingered my opening, it made a wet, smacking noise.

"So much better than anything man could create," he said, lifting the cream-coated fingers to his lips and licking them dry. His mouth descended upon me then, wet tongue meeting wet vagina with hungry insistence.

My wrists again pulled at their restraints, fingers itching to bury themselves in the forest of bronze-colored hair that bobbed between my legs. But my body could only undulate helplessly, hips lifting toward his face, legs surrendering to his hands as he pushed them open. I let myself submit totally, as I always did, to the exquisite sensation of his tongue working me into a frenzy of desire.

"Fuck, I can't get enough of you," he growled when he finally broke free, and a thrill shot through me at the first sign of him losing his well-kept control. "I want to be inside you in every way possible. I want you to let me in, in every way possible. I can't explain to you why I need it so much . . . I just do."

His breath was ragged, his eyes beseeching as he leaned closer to my face. "Let me in, Bella."

I could feel my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I already have," I told him.

He shook his head slightly. "I want more."

I wasn't even sure what he meant. If he meant anal sex, I'd already pretty much agreed to it in a roundabout way. Maybe for him, that symbolized the last barrier between us. If I let him breach it, would he finally tear down the ones he still hid behind?

Though I lay shackled and utterly vulnerable before him, I felt like the one in power as I made my reply.

"If you want more, then take it."

His gaze was as grateful as it was aroused. He kissed me, hard, forcing the taste of my own sex in my mouth. I kissed him back anyway, relenting to his will and his need.

We were both panting again by the time he had worked his lips back to my crotch. He was insatiable, mouth and fingers everywhere, licking and probing and filling my deepest recesses. I was so wet that he hadn't even reached for the lube he'd brought, using my own juices and his saliva to grant him access to both of my openings. I barely even winced at the backdoor penetration this time, my muscles more used to relaxing and allowing the intrusion.

"So fucking hot," he sighed, his voice a raspy crumb as he plumbed me rhythmically and drew helpless moans from my throat. "I think you're ready for more now."

I barely had time to react when he withdrew his hand and reached for the zipper case. I felt my pulse quicken as he opened the Zip-lock bag inside and pulled out the vibrator. He pressed his thumb to the switch and it emitted a low, humming noise.

"You're going to love this," he declared before pushing my legs open and touching it to my clitoris.

I cried out in surprise at the intense sensation of the vibrating wand on my nerve-filled flesh. My cries became a series of whimpers as he stroked me up and down with the smooth plastic, wetting its surface with my cream and then teasing my opening with it.

"I think your pussy wants even more," he said. I heard the vibrator's volume go up slightly before the vibrations increased in intensity.

"Oh God," I exclaimed before I could stop myself. My hips lifted to meet the shaking wand, ready to take it deeper. Edward's smirk was maddening as he pushed the vibrator deep inside me, then slowly fucked me with it. In and out . . . in and out . . . at a leisurely pace that drove me crazy. I lost all sense of propriety, if I had any to begin with, and writhed uncontrollably, struggling against the unrelenting handcuffs.

"Faster," I finally begged. "Please."

"So you like me fucking you this way?" he asked, in tone so melliflous that it made me want to scratch his eyes out. He gave the object several hard thrusts deep inside me to punctuate his question.

"Yes," I half-sobbed, half-snarled at him. I looked down and helplessly watched the vibrator disappear inside me, over and over, slowly picking up the pace, while mere inches away Edward's own dick stood completely erect and ready to do the job.

"Do you like fucking me with that thing? Wouldn't you rather do it yourself?" I taunted him.

"I like watching you come undone. I don't care about the method."

"Fucker," I mumbled under my breath in between panting and moaning. I really wanted to smack the smug look off of his face then, but I could only lie back and take the fake vibrating cock inside me, letting it bring me to the brink of orgasm despite my irritation that it wasn't Edward instead.

But true to form, as my body began to tighten and quicken and build to a climax, he removed the device from me completely. I cried out in frustration, which of course only made Edward's smirk twitch at the corners even more. He said nothing as he pulled the tube of lubricant from his zipper bag, removed the cap and squeezed a huge dollop of it along the length of the vibrator's wand. I held my breath then, waiting.

He swirled the clear gel up and down the vibrator, coating it completely, then reached his gel-covered fingers between my legs and did the same to my anus. His eyes met mine one last time, telling me to trust him.

I obeyed.

He turned the switch back down to the lowest setting on the vibrator, then touched it to my opening. The vibrations felt good, stimulating the area and making my body begin to pulse against it.

"Hold still," he whispered softly. He pushed the smooth tapered tip into me, and I felt my body resist. I concentrated on relaxing to allow the wand entrance. I winced slightly as he pushed the smooth plastic further, stretching me open. And then, like before, my sphincter suddenly gave up the fight and let the vibrator slide neatly inside.

"There we go," Edward said with satisfaction. He began pushing in a slow rhythm again, one I appreciated this time, as he worked the rod deeper inside. My moans were lower, throatier while I adjusted to this new and different type of pleasure. I couldn't deny that it felt amazing, and the more he worked, the more my body seemed to relax and enjoy the vibrations and the sensation of being filled.

"How does it feel?" he murmured, even though my non-verbal cues were telling the tale.

"So good. Unbelievably good," I sighed.

He quickened the rhythm of the device then, and my body responded in kind, lifting gently to meet each thrust.

"It looks amazing. So hot," he whispered hoarsely. He began stroking his erection with his free hand while he worked the vibrator with the other. I longed to do the stroking for him, to touch him and take him in my mouth. Instead I could only watch while he masturbated in time to the vibrator pushing inside me.

And then, just when I was getting used to the routine, he upped the ante by releasing his own cock and stroking my clitoris instead. I cried out anew as he worked me front and back, fondling my clit while driving the vibrator deep in my ass.

"Oh, fuck," I gasped, feeling like one of those wanton adult film stars I used to laugh at. Every nerve was being stimulated beyond capacity, sending me into some kind of sexual overdrive. Edward responded instantly, his fingers working feverishly against my clit while he turned up the speed on the vibrator so that my rectum shook with each thrust.

I began to utter mindless moans and profanities, wondering if Edward had infected me with his proclivity for swearing. I wanted to free my hands so I could push him away; to stop the overwhelming intensity before it destroyed me. My whole body arched rigidly, my legs trying to come together, but thwarted by his muscular arms in their way.

"Edward . . . please," I sobbed. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop. I knew that if I simply uttered that word, he would cease immediately.

I didn't want him to.

His fingers were inside my vagina now, fucking me in time with the vibrator. I gasped and groaned and sobbed. I undulated shamelessly before him. My worthless hands clutched at the empty air.

And then I came. I came harder than I've ever come before. The orgasm ripped through me in violent spasms, every muscle clenching around the sources of ecstasy within me. My head fell back and I made primal noises over which I had no control. I vaguely heard Edward groan along with me, evidently as moved by my total abandon as I was.

The blood pounded through my ears and all sound was muffled for a minute or two. I lay stunned and panting while Edward slowed the movements of his hands, gently massaging me back down to a semblance of calm. I blinked and looked up at him; his gaze reflected the intensity of what had just happened. He looked at me with something akin to wonder. There was no aura of cockiness or self-congratulation for a job well done. Instead, he looked oddly humbled.

He turned off the artificial device and gently removed it from my body. He wrapped it in paper towels and dropped it back in the Zip-lock bag, sealing it shut before stowing it back in the sex toy bag.

He knelt down and began kissing and stroking my trembling body, massaging me soothingly, masterfully, as only he can. By the time he brought his face to mine, I had managed to wind down to a state of spent euphoria.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he said before giving me a soft kiss.

"You're the one who just sent me to another dimension," I argued gently.

"That's only because you let me do it," he said. He ran his fingertips, feather-light, over the skin of my cheek, my jaw, my neck. "You let go completely. You let me take you there. Do you have any idea what that means to me?"

I shook my head slightly. I didn't, really. To Edward, trusting him with my body must be proof of my trust in him, period. And if that was what this kind of sex meant to him, then it was time for me to test his ability to do the same.

"I never even knew I could feel something like that. So intense. So beyond anything I could have imagined," I answered. "Only you could have done that for me."

Our eyes met and shared something too deep to put into words.

"Will you let me do that for you?" I whispered at last.

It was his turn to fall silent. He merely nodded. Then he raised himself up and reached for the zipper bag again, withdrawing a key from inside it. He crawled up toward the cuffs and unlocked them, rubbing and kissing each wrist after he released them from their metal bracelets.

"Are you sure you want to set me free already?" I asked with a teasing note to my voice. "You could have taken advantage of my helplessness in lots of other ways. You didn't even take any pleasure for yourself." I glanced down at his unsatisfied penis, still partially rigid and probably wondering when its turn was coming.

His lop-sided grin returned. "If you don't think I got any pleasure out of what just happened, then you don't know me nearly as well as I thought."

"You know what I mean," I insisted, finally bringing my gratefully free hands up to stroke his face. "I would have let you do a lot more."

He took a deep breath, and I knew he was imagining all the ways he could have taken me. He shook his head and let out a short laugh. "I won't forget that offer. I promise to take advantage of it in the future."

"Don't worry," I said, losing my hands in his hair. "I won't let you go unsatisfied tonight. I think you may enjoy my payback."

He let out a tiny growl. "Like I said, I look forward to your retaliation."

He covered my mouth in a kiss, which I happily returned. He let his body melt into mine, pressing me into the pillows; and then we rolled off of them and onto the mattress, clutching at one another as we kept the kiss going.

At last I rolled him onto his back. I let my kisses stray all over his beautiful face, down his rough beard to his neck. He sighed and ran his hands up and down my body, pulling me tighter to him. His cock was hard and ready, and I could feel it teasing the tingling flesh between my legs. It would be so easy to just go with it, to pull him inside and ride him until we both shuddered to a climax.

Too easy.

Too easy for tonight, anyway. Tonight was about something else.

I grabbed a pair of the cuffs that still lay on the corner of the mattress, near the headboard. I dangled them over Edward's nose and grinned down at him.

"My turn for a little fun," I said with a wicked grin.

He sighed again, more heavily this time. A sigh of ready submission.

"The pleasure will be mine, I'm sure," he replied, with a lusty glint in his eye.

I lifted myself off of him and went back to the pillows, fluffing and rearranging them back to their original configuration.

"Are you going to cuff me the same way I did you?" he asked. "You can do other things with the handcuffs, you know."

A few images flitted through my mind: hands behind his back, or together over his head; or even cuffed to his own ankles. _Where am I getting this stuff? _I wondered with a slight shudder.

Edward could see that I was thinking of the possibilities. The glint in his eyes had the sharp edge of anticipation now.

"No, I plan to match everything you just did to me. Tit for tat. So to speak," I said with a smirk not unlike the ones he was so good at giving me.

"I can live with that," he said, scooting over and settling back on the pillows. "Shackle me, baby. Make me your love slave."

He had me giggling as I straddled him and finagled the bracelets around his wrists. I'd obviously never used handcuffs before, and they were a little trickier to maneuver than I expected. But by the time the last "click" secured Edward to my headboard, the humor had dissipated on both sides.

We studied each other for a long moment, adjusting to the shift in control. If he was nervous, he didn't show it. He'd probably been in this position before. I couldn't think about that.

I grasped his face firmly in mine and leaned down to give him a kiss. I found myself kissing him harder, more forcefully than I usually did. It seemed there was something about the temporary imbalance of power that brought hidden desires to the surface. Edward had known this all along. If he was so eager to explore those desires, then I would not disappoint him.

He was panting when I finally ripped my mouth from his. His eyes were already taking on that glassy, unfocused appearance that happened whenever he let sensations and emotions take over his logic. The fire in my belly ignited once more at the sight.

I kissed him again, roughly, invading his mouth thoroughly with my tongue, pulling gently at his lips with my teeth. He groaned and strained at the cuffs, his body pushing up into mine. I was already grinding slowly against him. A little repositioning would be all I needed to take his erection inside me.

Instead, I tore my mouth away again and rose on my knees, pushing my left breast toward his still-open mouth. He reached for it greedily, sucking and tickling it with his tongue. I clutched his hair in my hands and pushed his face against me. He grunted and attacked my breast with renewed fervor; I cried out at the now-familiar sensation of pain mixed with pleasure.

I yanked his head back and twisted slightly, pressing my other nipple to his waiting mouth. He tortured it hungrily while I moaned and kneaded his scalp with my fingers. I thrilled to this new feeling of dominance; of being the one in charge of both my pleasure and his. It was a heady, undeniable high. Now I had a taste of what Edward felt when he had taken that responsibility just moments ago.

I pulled away from him and he gasped for air. I smoothed his hair gently and stared down at him, unable to keep the tiny smile from my lips.

His irrepressible half-grin appeared. "You love this, don't you. Calling the shots."

I bit my lip, but my smile grew anyway. "I have to admit, I really do." I let out a short laugh. "But what I really like is that you love it just as much as I do."

His smiled faded as his expression became more serious. "I love _you_. I'm yours to do with as you will."

I ached with the intensity of my feelings for him in that moment. I felt an actual pang deep in my chest.

I ran the tip of my finger down the side of his face, then traced the pink softness of his lips.

"I own you completely," I whispered.

He nodded.

"Then you won't mind if I label you as such," I said, my smirk returning.

His half-smile was cautious. "Of course not," he said uncertainly.

I reached for the bottle of Hershey's syrup, and he let out a relieved chuckle. I slid off of his body and knelt next to him as I pulled up the stopper on the bottle. I aimed it at the top of his chest, and then carefully squeezed the syrup out to spell out the letter "B."

His body stiffened when the cold chocolate sauce hit his skin, then shook with silent laughter as I continued to label him in large letters down his stomach:

BELLA'S.

When I got to the end, I made a small arrow on Edward's abdomen that pointed directly to the tip of his penis, which lay rigidly pointing back at the chocolate brand.

I smiled with satisfaction at my masterpiece while he continued to giggle.

"Now that is a true work of art," I said, admiring the sight my name spelled out all over Edward's glorious physique.

"Well, it's certainly truthful," he admitted.

"What's that saying? Art is truth? Truth is art? Whatever," I said with a dismissive shrug. "All I know is that it looks delicious."

And then I put my tongue to work, slurping the decadent drizzle off of his skin while he sighed appreciatively. I loved having a reason to run my tongue over every inch of him, feeling the ripples of muscle and bone under his smooth skin as I lapped the syrup from him.

The chocolate made me thirsty, and I was glad that Edward had had the forethought to bring a glass of water into the bedroom with him. By the time I'd licked his torso clean, I'd had enough chocolate to last me a lifetime. But I simply couldn't resist the temptation to take that last step.

I grabbed the bottle in one hand and grasped Edward's erection firmly in the other. His breathing quickened as we stared at one another. And then I let a long, languorous stream of syrup drip down over the head of his cock. I watched with fascination as it slowly oozed down the length of him and into my waiting hand.

"I'll never look at Drumstick ice cream cones the same way again," I grinned. Edward's answering chuckle was cut short when my lips closed over the tip of his chocolate-covered dick. I worked my mouth thoroughly up and down his shaft, licking and sucking and lapping up the chocolate until only naked skin remained.

He moaned and began to twist against his restraints as I worked. Soft, mumbled expletives escaped him, and his eyes took on that glazed look again. It was time to go further now; to bring him to the place that he'd taken me. I wanted nothing more than to push him further than he'd ever been pushed, and for his release to be as earth-shattering as mine had been.

Could I do it? I wasn't sure. But I was ready to rise to the challenge.

Edward certainly had. His cock was fully engorged and twitching with need now. I took him deep in my mouth, trying to relax my throat and swallow more of him than I ever had. He groaned loudly, letting me know how good it felt. I released him, took a long breath and tried again, pushing my lips down the length of him, taking him deep and holding him there until I choked slightly and relinquished him again.

He swore and gave me a look of amazed ecstasy that I would try this for him. It was all the impetus I needed to keep on trying. I added it to my repertoire as I stroked and pumped him with my hands and sucked him deep in my mouth. His legs fell open easily when I pushed against them, and I worked my tongue all around his scrotum and behind, to that taboo place that Edward was so fond of.

But would he welcome the role reversal? Or was his fetish a one-way street?

I heard soft moans as I tickled and teased the area with my hands and mouth. I remembered that when I had done this to him briefly in the shower last weekend, he seemed to like it. Maybe he would surprise me. Maybe he wanted this.

I'd read somewhere that a lot of men loved to have their prostate stimulated, and that the best way to do that was through internal contact. That meant him taking my finger inside him just as I had let him do to me.

I pushed my fingertips experimentally against his opening, gently massaging it in circles. I looked up at him; he stared at me intently. I tried to read his eyes, but I still wasn't sure.

I crawled back up his body and brought my face close to his. I leaned in and kissed him gently. "You know I want to be inside you as badly as you want to be inside me, don't you?"

His breaths were sharp and quick. A small battle seemed to wage momentarily in his eyes. He finally swallowed audibly and nodded.

"Are you ready to let me in, Edward?"

"Yes," he answered hoarsely.

I kissed him again, more deeply this time, forcing the taste of his sex on him as he had done to me. He kissed me back freely, fervently. He was ready. We both were.

I returned to my vantage point between his legs and reached for the tube of lubricant that still lay near the foot of the bed. I squeezed out a generous dollop, coating my index and middle fingers with the slippery substance. I was amazed at how turned on I felt at the prospect of doing this to Edward - entering his body in the most intimate way possible, the way he had already done to me so many times.

His breath was coming in short spurts and his entire body was stiff with anticipation. His wrists pulled helplessly at the handcuffs - unconsciously, it seemed; but his legs remained open for me. His cock strained against his belly. I leaned down and ran my tongue firmly up its underside as I pushed my index finger against the tight circle of his anus. His breath came out in a shuddering gasp and his hips bucked up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into my mouth. I welcomed it freely, swallowing him down deep once again until he swore and groaned in turn.

As I took him in and out of my mouth, tongue and lips working the sensitive head with each pass, I pushed my finger slowly into the snug muscle of his sphincter until it released. His cry was soft as his body relented and gave in to me. I loved the hot tightness of his inner muscles gripping my finger as I pushed it deeper inside him.

I released his cock from my mouth and sat up to look him in the eyes. They were dazed and glassy with desire, pleading for both my possession and my mercy. I held his gaze as I began moving my finger slowly inside him, pulling out a little, then pushing back in, each time a little more forcefully than the last. His breathing matched my rhythm, growing louder with each thrust of my finger, his nostrils flaring to capture more oxygen.

I leaned in closer, my breath teasing his as I spoke.

"You like this, don't you," I murmured, my words echoing his from the nights he had penetrated me front and back with his own unrelenting hand.

His weak chuckle was short-lived when I slowly, gingerly pressed my second finger into him, along with the first. He let out a strangled cry as I pushed inexorably upward, curling my fingers into the base of his perineum. The sound of his panting breath was an incredible aphrodisiac to me. I was stunned at how good it felt to invade him this way, to give him the type of ecstasy he was so good at giving me - the type over which it was impossible to have any control. I stroked him firmly, deeply inside his rectum, pushing repeatedly until his endless moans matched my rhythm.

I stretched up and leaned my free hand on the bed next to Edward's chest, bringing my face close to his. I reached back into my memory banks and found more of his words that I could aim and fire back at him.

"I'm going to give you the most amazing orgasm you've ever had," I promised. "I'm going to make you come like you've never come before."

"Christ," he swore, his blasphemy ending in yet another groan. "I don't doubt that one bit."

I kissed him then, my tongue moving in cadence with the ministrations of my fingers. I palmed his balls, squeezing them against his cheeks as I worked. I was unbelievably high on the power I felt as he kissed me desperately, his wrists struggling against the immovable cuffs while his hips surged rhythmically into my hands.

So this was what it truly felt like to be the one in control, able to give ecstasy or withhold it at will. I was shocked at how humbling it was-not to him, but to me.

I had no desire to toy with him or take his pleasure away. In fact, having him so totally at my mercy made me feel more benevolent than I'd ever felt before. I'd never wanted so much for him to feel only amazing, thrilling, unforgettable things at my hands. His happiness and satisfaction only heightened my own. Once again the lines were blurred. His ecstasy was mine.

"I'm so in love with you," I sighed as I broke our kiss. "Every part of you. Every inch of you. I want you to feel it in every cell of your body. I want you to know it, deep down, like you've never known anything in your life."

The words seemed too small to encompass my true feelings, but I had to try. The expression in his eyes was so full, it was nearly unreadable.

"Make me feel it," he whispered hoarsely. It wasn't an order so much as a plea, but I treated it as an imperative.

My lips trailed along his jaw, my tongue tracing the jutting bones down to the straining veins and sinews of his neck. I reached down and grasped his cock in my free hand, then began moving my hands in unison, stroking him inside and out. They never released their charge, ceaselessly massaging his most vulnerable parts as my lips worked their way down his body. I repositioned myself as I went, leaning and bending to suck his nipples into hard buttons, then lick the curls of hair that dotted his chest and thickened down his belly. My tongue swirled inside his bellybutton, tickling and teasing on its way down to the swollen head of his cock.

I tongued its tip while my hand pumped the shaft, and his moans took on a tinge of desperation. I doused him thoroughly with saliva, then pulled my mouth away and concentrated on the motion of my hands, watching with fascination as my fingers repeatedly disappeared deep between his cheeks and his genitals darkened with increasing arousal. I gripped his cock a little harder than I usually did, pushing forcefully down toward his scrotum while my fingers inside him did the same. I continued bringing my hands together this way, squeezing his balls in between, applying more pressure from all directions until his hips bucked helplessly in response.

"Holy fuck!" he finally exploded with a broken cry. "What are you doing to me?"

A tiny smile played at my lips. The question was rhetorical. He knew exactly what I was doing: pushing him to his limits. Intensifying his pleasure until he wasn't sure if it was pain. It was the test was he wanted of me, and of himself.

I had found his threshold, and I balanced there precariously for as long as possible. I fondled him faster, rougher, more ruthlessly than I ever had before. The only sounds I heard were the friction of wet skin on skin, ragged breaths and animal grunts of ecstasy.

His engorged cock swelled and leaked fluid onto my busy fingers, and I knew he was close.

"I want to watch you come for me," I whispered, the intensity of my tone surprising even me as I worked him into a lather. "I want to see that cock erupt all over the both of us."

His eyes were wild, almost disbelieving as he stared into mine, then at my hands, bringing him to the brink. His breathing was labored, his arms straining so hard at the handcuffs that I thought he might break my headboard.

It was the most intensely erotic thing I had ever seen.

"Give it to me," I ordered in a low voice as I milked his swollen member to the breaking point. "Give me every ounce of your cum."

His moan was one of total surrender as his eyes squeezed shut and his head fell back on the pillows. When his cock twitched violently in my hand, I let go of it, right at its moment of climax. It convulsed helplessly in the air before emitting its first viscous stream of semen; then pulsed with another, and another, and countless more in perfect time to the thrusts of my fingers inside him.

He cursed and jerked and moaned, each breath a sob of euphoria that was music to my ears. I sat staring at him, somewhat stunned, as he rode out his orgasm, the longest I'd ever witnessed. I had never seen anything sexier than his total abandon in that moment.

I stared dumbly at his spent and sweaty form before me, hands hanging limply in their restraints, torso decorated with ribbons of glistening ejaculate. I was enthralled at what I had just done to him, and the intensity with which he had responded. I tried to convey the depth of my emotion with my eyes when his head fell forward and he gazed at me from under heavy lids. I decided to tell him with my actions instead.

I slowly withdrew my fingers from inside him and wiped them with a nearby paper towel; then I knelt down and lapped at his dripping member while he groaned anew. I cleaned every bit of semen from him with meticulous thoroughness, licking it from his stomach and chest after I'd sucked every drop from his cock. I relished its bitter taste in my mouth as much as I had the chocolate earlier. It was a part of him, and I wanted every part equally-the good, the bad, and everything in between.

By the time I neared his face, his expression was still a bit shell-shocked.

"You're unbelievable," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That you would do that for me. . . "

I traced the rugged line of his jaw, then the soft skin of his cheek.

"I'd do anything for you." I kissed him gently; his eyes closed as if in denial.

"But that was . . . " His words fell away and he shook his head.

". . . no different than the mind-blowing things you've done for me," I finished for him.

"But most girls wouldn't - "

"I'm not most girls," I cut him off sharply this time before he could say the words.

"No," he agreed. He closed his eyes again and leaned his face into my hand, slowly rubbing the prickly stubble of his jaw down my palm. He sighed and finally said, "You're so much more than I deserve."

His eyes were self-condemning. I knew that look all too well. My heart sank.

"Don't do this," I warned. "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you about what you do or don't deserve. The fact is that I love you, and I love making love to you. That's not going to change, so you might as well accept it."

He gave me his half-smile, but I could see that his heart wasn't in it. The sight of it nearly broke my own.

I reached for the handcuffs key on the nightstand, but froze in place when I heard his next words.

"Why did you let me hit you earlier?"

Every hair on my body prickled in shock. I turned my head slowly back to his penitent stare.

"_What_ did you say?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice low and hollow.

I bristled anew and affixed my indignant eyes on his. "You didn't hit me. You slapped my ass a few times before we had sex. That's called foreplay in most circles."

He shook his head, his smile bitter this time. "I went too far. You should have stopped me."

I grasped his face in mine and held it a little too firmly. I was so upset with him that I could feel tears fighting their way to the corners of my eyes.

"If you had gone too far, trust me, I would have stopped you. You have never done anything to me that I didn't want you to. Do you understand that?"

I wasn't sure if he did. He still had that unworthy look in his eyes. He answered my query with one of his own.

"So will you do something that I want, if I ask you to?"

I didn't know how to answer. It felt like a trick question. I finally nodded, ever so slightly.

"I want you to hit me back."

_No. No, no, no. I didn't just hear that. _

My eyes squeezed shut in denial; to block out the self-loathing in his eyes. My head began to shake back and forth in refusal.

"Look at me, Bella," he ordered. Though he was the one restrained, I obeyed. His eyes were filled with grim determination now. "I need you to do it. Tit for tat. Payback. It's your turn and I want you to take it."

"Stop it," I said, my voice quaking with fear and anger. I reached for the key again but he lurched up against me, jostling me so that I lost my balance and had to put my hand on the bed to catch myself instead.

"Hit me," he demanded again through gritted teeth. "Spank me, slap me, fucking punch me in the face. I don't care. Just do it."

I stared at him in escalating horror. He was serious. His eyes seethed with a sort of crazed desperation that I'd never seen before. His fists clenched and pulled at the handcuffs.

"I'm not going to hit you," I refused, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "I love you."

"If you love me you'll do it," he insisted. "You'll make us even. I can't live with myself otherwise."

I stared into his eyes, uncomprehending. He really believed what he was saying. For the first time since I'd known him, I was truly, deeply afraid. Not because of what he might do to me, but because of what he was doing to himself.

My stunned impotence was shattered by the sudden shaking of the bed as Edward gave the handcuffs a furious yank, punctuated with a frustrated howl. I jerked back in renewed shock, leaning away from his straining body. He looked into my horrified face, his own twisting with pain.

"Please," he begged weakly.

Hot tears spilled down my face, one from each eye. I stared helplessly at him, utterly speechless. This was the first time I'd ever felt completely incapable of giving him what he wanted.

"Why won't you give me what I have coming to me?" he said in frustrated defeat, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

I sniffed and wiped away my own. "Because I don't have any reason to punish you," I said, bringing the suspicions I'd buried out into the light. This had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her. I didn't know if Tanya was alive or dead, and it didn't really matter. Her ghost lingered between us regardless.

"Whomever you need absolution from, it's not me," I told him quietly.

Edward's face crumpled. He tried to fight the tears and lost. I reached for the key; he didn't stop me this time. I unlocked the metal circles that bound him and circled my arms around him instead. He buried his face in my shoulder and sobbed silently, his tears hot on my skin. My own fell freely in his hair. He clutched me to him and I rocked him gently in my arms; my sweet, beautiful, haunted boy.

"Do you remember what you asked me the first night we were together?" I whispered at last, stroking his hair. "When you'd had too much to drink and didn't censor what you said?"

"No, what?" he muttered hoarsely.

"You said, 'Let me love you,'" I reminded him. "And I did."

He made no reply. I pulled away slightly and cradled his face in my hand, making him look at me.

"Please let me love you back," I said quietly.

He looked like he might cry again, and I felt as if I could; but we had already shed too many tears for one night.

At last he nodded. I touched my lips to his; it felt like a covenant sealed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

I wanted to shake my head; to tell him, "Don't be." But I let Edward have his apology, since he needed to give it so badly - even if it fell on the wrong ears.

I kissed him again, then suggested we take a shower. He followed me silently to the bathroom and we washed the evening's stains away.

He helped me outfit the bed with clean sheets and fresh pillowcases to cradle our heads. We curled ourselves into one being and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

* * *

It's funny how things always look different in the morning light.

Today the sun seemed to bring with it a tranquil peace when it shone through my bedroom window. Gone were the tension and trials of the night before. When Edward's eyes met mine this morning, I knew that we had passed the test.

One of them, anyway.

Today was about finding our present and future together, even though we used the past to do it.

In fact, today was mostly about you, Mom.

Edward wanted to look through all your old records, and not surprisingly, a lot of them were the same ones he inherited from his aunt Jeanne. We listened to them all day while I showed him our old photo albums. You should have seen his face. He was so interested in hearing about you and Phil and Dad, and my old friends from when I was a kid. It's like he couldn't get enough of my stories about the good times from my past, most of them spent with you.

He asked to see your old guitar, so I dragged it out of its dusty closet corner and let him tune it. The poor old instrument needs new strings, but it didn't sound too bad by the time he was done tinkering with it.

He played and sang along with some of the old records, and I sat cross-legged on the carpet across from him, completely enthralled. I even chimed in a time or two, which Edward loved. He was far too complimentary of my meager singing abilities. He puts me to shame in that regard. But he seemed inordinately excited to hear me pick out some harmonies, and the more he encouraged me, the more confident I became. I could feel you in that moment, smiling down on me; on us. Maybe you were.

He gave me another impromptu guitar lesson, too. He taught me all the chords to "A Case Of You." _You're in my blood like holy wine, you taste so bitter and so sweet . . . Oh I could drink a case of you, darling and still be on my feet. . .*_ All I have to do is practice my finger-picking. I think I'm getting the hang of playing again, slowly but surely. The guitar doesn't feel so alien in my lap anymore. Edward says he's going to restring it for me so I can practice on my own.

He's so good to me, Mom. It kills me when he thinks he isn't. I wish I knew how to heal him the way he has me. I wish he would let me.

We made love only once today, when we woke up. He treated me like I was made of hand-spun glass, careful and reverent. Even so, we managed to twist the sheets until we tossed them aside, letting the morning sun spill its light over our naked bodies melding together. He was so beautiful in those golden rays that I wanted to weep.

As he moved sensuously all over me and inside me, I reached down without warning and gave him one hard, loud slap across both cheeks. Startled, he stopped and looked anxiously into my eyes.

"There," I said with finality. "We're even."

He eyes softened gratefully; his lip turned upward in the slightest of smiles. Then he continued making love to me until we both reached our favorite pinnacle. We took the leap together, unafraid of the landing.

We would be there to catch each other.

* * *

*"A Case Of You" by Joni Mitchell, copyright 1970.


	35. Countdown, day 1

**As always, thanks to SM for her wonderful characters. Thanks to the actors who brought them to life. And thanks especially to all of you wonderful readers and friends who have given me feedback and helped me in various ways - you know who you are.**

**When we last left Edward, he was showing signs of unraveling. His self-imposed countdown to the truth has begun. Check for daily updates on his progress. . . or regress? Time will tell that tale.**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Monday, August 30**

My life feels like a countdown now.

Every day I feel the ticking of the clock, the passage of time, like never before. Counting down to Bella's birthday, which should be a happy occasion. I'm going to do everything in my power to make it that way, no matter what happens once the day comes to a close.

Every day the panic rises a little higher than before. I just hope it doesn't choke me before I get to the finish line.

The fact that I did it to myself doesn't help matters. If anything, it only makes it worse. My self-imposed deadline to tell Bella everything about you feels like a noose slowly tightening around my neck. And even though it's one of my own making, and I deserve it one-hundred percent, it doesn't make me any less afraid of dangling there, twisting in the wind after it's all over.

Sometimes I hate you, Tanya. I hate you for what you did. I can't deny it. You knew you'd fuck up my life irrevocably with your actions. That you'd stick the knife through both of us with one blow.

But no matter how much I resent you or despise you, it will never be as much as I despise myself.

I realize now just what I've done to myself by setting a date to tell Bella about you. I thought everything was fine at first. She's my favorite distraction; my light that leads me out of the darkness. But when she had me handcuffed to her bed, the darkness won.

I'm not sure she understood what she did to me. She took me somewhere I didn't even know I could go; pushed me farther than you ever did. She invaded my body and was so ruthless in her possession that I didn't even know if it was pleasure or pain I was feeling. All I knew was that just when I thought I couldn't take it one minute longer, she'd keep going, and I'd keep taking it. I thought I would go mad.

But the pleasure somehow won, and I erupted. I came harder than I've ever come before. The release was beyond anything I've ever felt, and it was all for her. Only she could have done that for me. She's the only one I'd ever trust that way; the only one I'd ever let close enough to see me so vulnerable - to make me so vulnerable.

It was too much. I watched her lapping cum off of me, pretending she loved it when I know she hates the taste, and I'd never felt so unworthy of anything or anyone in my life. I've been keeping things from the person I cherish most in this world, and the last thing I wanted from her was benevolence.

I wanted her to punish me some more instead - to squeeze my cock until it turned purple, to smack my ass until it was raw, to just fucking clock me across the jaw already and be done with it. I wanted her fury instead of her tenderness. She had bent over and taken a spanking from me; she'd let me shackle her and fuck her front and back with a vibrator; and here she was, prone before me, cleaning up my mess with her tongue when she should be sending me to hell instead.

I tried everything to goad her into hitting me. I wheedled, I connived. I finally begged. But she refused to let me have it. I know she suspects the truth - that there's someone else whose punishment might finally free me from the guilt. But since you're not here to deliver it, I don't know who else can.

Bella refused to be your surrogate. After I got over the frustration, I realized I was glad. I don't want her anywhere near the ugly stain you left behind. But I don't know how much longer I can protect her from it.

Wait. Yes, I do.

Fifteen more days.


	36. Countdown, day 2

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Tuesday, August 31**

"So how are things going with Rosalie these days?"

I took another bite of Moo Shu pork and hoped my question to Emmett sounded offhand. I'd suggested lunch at the Chinese place again, and he'd readily agreed. I couldn't stand not knowing just what that shrew had revealed to him. Bella told me her boss had acted like nothing happened at work yesterday. While the two of them pretended it was business as usual, I could tell Rose's betrayal was still bothering Bella.

"Pretty good," Emmett replied, trying to pass off a rigid smile as his usual easy grin. It finally faded and he took a deep breath. "We patched things up after I let her have it about what she did to you last week," he finally admitted. "I'm glad you asked me to lunch today because I've been wanting to talk to you about it ever since she told me the whole story last night. I knew something was bothering her all weekend, and I finally got her to 'fess up. She was out of line, man. I'm sorry."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't apologize for her. I'm just glad she was honest with you, because I was afraid she was going to keep the whole thing a secret. She set me up, trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to get me to admit to some crazy conspiracy with Bella to start our own label. I still can't figure out where she got that idea."

"Well, she didn't come right out and say it, but it sounds like this kind of thing has happened to her in the past. She's been burned before in this business. She jumped to the wrong conclusions and let her suspicions get the best of her. I'm not making excuses for her, but I guess I can see where she's coming from," Emmett said apologetically.

_Hell, he does have it bad if he's okay with that kind of behavior_, I thought. But I merely said, "Well, I just hope she doesn't pull that kind of stunt with me again. I didn't tell Bella the extent of it - she doesn't know that Rosalie actually thought she would defect and start her own label for me. But I warned your girlfriend that if she ever gives mine a reason to doubt her, I'd tell Bella everything."

Emmett let out a heavy sigh. "Gotcha. I'll remind Rose to keep her paranoia in check."

I nodded but still felt irritated. "I don't think I would have minded it so much if she had just come out with her suspicions, you know? Just asked Bella or me point blank what the story was. But she let her imagination go wild and then cornered me behind Bella's back. That's the kind of thing I just can't condone."

"Neither can I," Emmett agreed. He rubbed his hand over his face a moment; he looked weary. "Don't worry, I already went a couple of rounds with Rose about how she handled things. She doesn't like to do anything in a small way if she can make a big impact. She likes the drama, you know," he added wryly.

"Obviously." My tone was acid. I thought again of you, which is happening more and more now that The Countdown is on. You cured me of any attraction I might have had to drama queens, that's for sure.

"For what it's worth, I know Rose feels bad about what she did. And she knows she's going to have to earn your forgiveness. I just hope you'll let her try." Emmett's eyes were beseeching.

"You do have it bad, don't you," I mused aloud. "If she means that much to you, then yeah, I'll work on letting all of this be water under the bridge."

Emmett's smile was easier this time. "Thanks, brother. I owe you one."

"I'll let you pay for lunch," I suggested with a laugh.

He let out one of his own. "Done."

I gulped down the last of my iced tea while he reached for the check. And then, I thought of a way he could repay me.

"There is one thing you can do for me," I said cautiously as he pulled some bills from his wallet.

"Name it," he offered.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything about . . . Tanya at Mom and Dad's next Monday." It took every ounce of willpower I had just to say your name out loud.

Emmett's eyes darted to mine, then narrowed as he discerned my meaning. "You mean you haven't told Bella anything?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. But I'm going to. Soon." _In fourteen days, to be exact._

Emmett shook his head, either in pity or disapproval, I'm not sure which. "She's not going to judge you. She's not like that. She's crazy about you."

"We'll see," I muttered, unconvinced. "But if you could maybe mention to Mom and Dad that the subject is off limits, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure," he agreed. "I doubt it's something they'd bring up anyway, but yeah, we'll do our best not to make any blunders there." His expression was a bit judgmental, which surprised me. Judging me and reminding me what an ass I am are usually Alice's department.

We were quiet on the walk back to work. But right before we got to the front door, Emmett spoke with unusual seriousness.

"Secrets can fester like old wounds if you keep them covered up. Rose didn't want to come clean with me, but I could tell that she was hiding something, and I didn't let up until she confessed everything. In the end, we were both glad she did."

I let out a sigh and nodded.

"Something to think about," he said, giving me a quick squeeze of support on the shoulder before opening the door.

His advice was moot. Secrets are all I've been thinking about lately.


	37. Countdown, day 3

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Wednesday, September 1**

"Give me your lighter."

Alice's impatience had her picking my pockets before I could even reach into them.

"Settle down, groupie." I laughed, swatting her hands away. "How do you know I even have one on me?"

"Because you're smoking again. I can smell it," she sniffed.

"Christ almighty," I grumbled as I dug a Bic out of my left jeans pocket. "Here you go, Columbo."

"Woo hooo!" she hollered as she flicked the lighter on and held the flame high above her head. She swayed back and forth to a slow, bluesy number by The Grade as they rehearsed downstairs from my loft again. Jasper's band had chosen an official name, and they were sounding tighter than ever, despite Rosalie's misgivings.

I had kept those to myself, of course. The band, and my baby sister, were none the wiser. I had reminded Emmett to keep his mouth shut on that score as well. As the resident Secret Monger of the Cullen clan, I felt it was my dirty job to keep the peace on all fronts for as long as possible.

At the end of the song, Alice and I clapped, whistled and cheered wildly. The trio of musicians were appreciative of their small but rowdy audience, taking deep bows of gratitude.

They took a breather after that. I broke out the six-pack that I'd brought downstairs in the cooler, and we all relaxed on the floor with a beer for a few minutes.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard anything from Rosalie," Alice said to Jasper, Stew and Hank with a pout. "Surely she could hear how much potential you guys have. And I'm sure Bella has gone to bat for you, too."

"She has," I assured them all. "But I think Rose is waiting until you get a few gigs under your belt."

Jasper's grin was wry. "We definitely need some seasoning. I don't think we're ready for the next step quite yet."

His apprehension was reflected in the eyes of his band mates, who nodded in agreement. They began to discuss doing a few more open mic nights, and checking back with a local promoter who sounded like he was willing to schedule some small paying gigs for them.

"Sounds promising," I encouraged. "If you get going on one of the bar circuits, you'll have Rosalie sniffing around for fresh blood before you know it." I secretly enjoyed comparing her to a dog, or maybe a vampire or leech. I was glad Emmett wasn't here to see my smirk.

"I can't wait to hear you when I come back to visit," Alice said, her tone excited but laced with melancholy.

"We'll probably be sounding a hell of a lot better when you're not around to distract me from practicing," Jasper joked half-heartedly.

"Stop," she pouted, giving his shoulder a shove. "I'll be your muse from afar. You can Skype me during rehearsals so I can hear how you're improving." Her face brightened at the prospect.

"Like you'll have time for that between studying and interning," Jasper replied, sounding pretty melancholy himself. I could tell he worried about their relationship withstanding the separation.

"I'll make time," Alice said softly, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

I wondered what would happen to Bella and me if we were faced with something like that. I couldn't even let my mind go there. I missed her if we went more than a day or two without seeing each other. Texting, and even Skyping, just wouldn't cut it. I wouldn't be able to touch her, smell her, feel her breath on my skin when she lay sleeping in my arms.

I missed her tonight. I wished she were here with us, even though I'm the one who encouraged her to take Angela to her favorite open mic night. I didn't want to be one of those demanding boyfriends who would make her change her routine for me, or put me ahead of her work.

When rehearsal was through, I stole my lighter back from Alice and went outside for a smoke while the band loaded their gear back into Stew's van.

"Why have you taken up that filthy habit again?" I heard my sisters' whine behind me. She'd followed us out the side door, then leaned against the brick wall upwind from me while I blew smoke in the other direction.

I made a lame defense. "It relaxes me."

"Which begs the question, why are you tense? You aren't nervous about the party at Mom and Dad's, are you?" She stared up at me through narrowed, intuitive eyes.

I let out a rueful chuckle. "Can't get anything past you, can I?" I muttered, taking another drag. "I just don't want them giving Bella the third degree like they do all of their children's prospective spouses."

"Ha! You might as well accept the inevitable. But you don't have to worry - they like Bella." She put the emphasis on Bella's name, to make sure I'd get her implication that they didn't like my previous girlfriend.

"I know." I exhaled away from her, then took a deep breath of fresh air before continuing. "And speaking of girlfriends they didn't approve of, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring up Tanya."

Your name wasn't any easier for me to utter today than it was yesterday.

Alice's face twisted in distaste. "Why would I bring _her_ up? Religion or politics would be much more pleasant topics of conversation."

"I agree," I said, inhaling another puff. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

Alice let out a derisive snort. "If you're telling me you haven't revealed one thing about your past to Bella, then I am definitely not on the same page as you. We're not even reading the same book."

I glanced at her disgusted face before turning away and exhaling.

"Edward, this is ridiculous. You shouldn't have to walk on eggshells around Bella, or make us walk on them with you. If you can't tell her the truth, then you'd better ask yourself why."

I shook my head and stared into the night sky. "I already know why," I answered softly.

I felt her hand on my arm, willing me to look in her direction. Her doe eyes were still severe she gazed up at me.

"If you don't think she's strong enough to stand by you no matter what, then you don't know her at all."

I nodded rather than argue with her. I was finished with the discussion, and Alice knew it.

Of course, I know Bella's strong enough to stand by me.

I just don't know if she'll want to.


	38. Countdown, day 4

**A/N: So, these daily "quickies" from Edward have been an interesting experiment. I thought they'd be kind of a fun character study of Edward while he tries to avoid the inevitable. (I had fun writing them, anyway.) Seems some readers agree, while others are pretty much over Emo Edward and are ready for him to shit or get off the pot. I completely understand both sides of that argument. For better or worse, I've decided to go ahead and post the rest of my brief glimpses into Edward's head, because we'll get to the shit soon enough. ;-)**

**Endless thanks to "Kit" for her no-nonsense advice when I need it most, and to jmolly for her wonderful insight and invaluable help. And to all of you who leave feedback, I am eternally grateful. You rock my world. (-said in a Cliff Poncier-to-Janet Livermore kind of way. "Singles" by Cameron Crowe - one of my fave movies of all time.)**

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_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Thursday, September 2**

"Edward? What are you doing out here?"

I turned at the sound of my better half's voice, small and plaintive behind me. She stood shivering in her thin camisole and pajama pants, hugging her arms for warmth. I wanted to go to her and throw my arms around her, but the cigarette held me back. Its glowing stub in the dark was my siren call now; my escape from the things I didn't want to face.

I took a long drag, admiring the brightening of the cigarette's embers as I sucked the smoky air through its filter. Then I scowled at it for distracting me from the only thing in my life worth drawing breath for.

I tossed the stub to the gravelly roof beneath my feet and watched it smolder for a moment. Then I turned my back on it and went to Bella, putting my arms around her and pulling her close. I wondered if she ever aches for me the way I do for her. Even though I held her tightly, the melancholy still seeped through me. I never seem to be able to get close enough.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," I murmured into her hair. I wound my fingers through its locks, tangling it further. I had already mussed it beyond recognition when I made love to her earlier, rolling her all over the bed and carefully pushing her pliant body into various positions that would allow my cock to pierce her as deeply as possible.

Never deep enough.

"I didn't hear you leave," she said quietly, her lips near my heart. "I rolled over and you were gone. The cold sheets woke me up."

I rocked her gently in my arms. "So you like sleeping with me now?" I teased her. "You used to have trouble sleeping with me in the bed."

"Now it's the opposite," she sighed into my chest.

"For me, too," I whispered.

We stood quietly for a moment, swaying gently in the night breeze.

"Why are you smoking again?" Bella asked at last. Her tone wasn't accusatory. It was worried.

I came up with a different lame defense than the one I'd given Alice. "It helps me think."

"What are you thinking about?"

I sighed and buried my lips in her hair again. "Lots of things."

"I wish you'd share them with me." Her voice was small again.

"Be careful what you wish for."

She scowled and looked up at me, searching for my eyes under the cloudy night sky.

"Stop trying to scare me. It's too late for that."

"I'm not trying to scare you," I countered. "I'm trying to protect you."

She let out a scoffing noise. "From what? You? Don't bother."

She reached up and touched my face, her hand gentle against my rough beard.

"I think you're trying to protect yourself," she said. Her insight was uncanny. Or maybe it was simply a given, as well as she knows me now. "It just hurts me that you feel like you need to protect yourself from me."

I shook my head in denial. "I swear to you that's not it. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone in my life."

She let her hand drop, and then her eyes. She rested her head against my chest again and wrapped both arms around me.

"I know you do," she said.

She sounded defeated. Whatever trust I was able to give her, it wasn't enough. I wondered what she would think about that after she knew everything. After I gave her every bit of trust she needed from me, would she even want it anymore?

"Come on. Let's go back to bed," I suggested softly, giving her hair a final stroke. Arms still encircling her, I guided her back to the rooftop door. We descended the steps back to the loft, never letting go of one another. Arm in arm, we headed back to bed, then lay wrapped in each other's embrace until consciousness waned.

As I drifted off, I wondered when her patience with me would run out.

I hoped it could last twelve more days.

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_(The author may also be hoping the same about her readers... ;)_


	39. Countdown, day 5

**Thanks for the feedback, everyone! It's been interesting, and helpful, to read the differing opinions. **

**This is the last of Edward's "quickies" that I have written. I hope to have more up this weekend, and they will probably read more like "regular" chapters.**

**Not gonna lie...I had a lot of fun with this particular "quickie." ;)**

**To clear up a little confusion: a few chapters back, Edward told Kate that he would wait until AFTER Bella's birthday to tell her what happened. The point of his "countdown" (besides procrastination, and another way to torture himself) is to avoid ruining her birthday. Now whether he'll make it that long is another matter entirely...**

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_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Friday, September 3**

"All right, I'm just going to say it." Ben Cheney's tone was uncharacteristically blunt. "That movie sucked."

"It did not!" Angela protested, throwing a few kernels of leftover popcorn at him. "I liked it."

"You would," he snickered. "Chick flick. But I'll bet even Bella thought it blew."

He looked expectantly down the couch at my girlfriend, who sat between Angela and me. Bella hesitated as she glanced between her roommate and her roommate's boyfriend. She wisely chose to placate the person she has to live with.

"I liked the romance," she offered. "And the atmosphere was cool. Kind of spooky. The cinematography was good."

I grinned at her diplomacy and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Are you kidding me?" Ben exclaimed. "Everyone looked _blue_, for crying out loud."

"They were vampires," she pointed out.

"But even the humans were as blue as corpses!" he shot back. "And the vampires didn't actually kill anybody. We didn't even get to see them nail a deer or a bear, or whatever the hell they were supposed to feed on. Ridiculous. I'll bet Cullen is with me on this one. That movie sucked harder than any of the vampires in it. Am I right?"

I hedged my bets. "I've seen better," I admitted. "I've seen worse."

"Name one vampire flick that's worse," he challenged.

I drew a blank. "Give me a minute," I said with a laugh as Ben began crowing in victory.

"Well, regardless, that lead vampire guy was hot," Bella said. "He reminded me of Edward." She grinned slyly up at me, and I returned the look.

"That's so weird. I was thinking that the lead human looked a lot like you. Nowhere near as pretty, though."

"Oh, brother," Ben groaned with a roll of his eyes at the two of us. Angela gave him a gentle punch on the arm.

"Leave them alone. They're still in the honeymoon phase. I remember when you used to look at me like that," she told him reproachfully.

"What do you mean, 'used to?'" he protested. "I give you that look all the time."

"There's a difference between a look that says, 'You complete me,' and a look that says, 'You wanna get busy?'" Angela retorted.

"Oh, that's harsh. Do you hear this?" Ben directed his question at me. "This is what you have to look forward to in a few years."

Bella had collapsed into peals of giggles, and I was chuckling myself.

"Laugh all you want at that movie, it got one thing right. The way the two leads looked at each other was, like, the pinnacle of movie romance," Angela insisted. "Intense. Longing. Soulful. You could feel their connection just by the look in their eyes."

Bella nodded. "Totally. They sold me on the romance," she said.

I actually concurred, though I didn't put it quite as eloquently.

"They're probably doing it in real life," I suggested.

Everyone made noises of agreement.

"Yep," Ben said. "And when he wants a little action, do you think he says, 'You complete me'? Hell, no. He says, 'Yo, babe, you wanna get busy?'"

"Shut up!" Angela ordered. The girls pelted Ben with popcorn then, even though they were laughing the entire time.

Later, I lay on Bella's bed, watching her put on her PJ's. She had a long day ahead of her tomorrow, and I had to get up early for my morning appointments, so we had decided to go to sleep when the movie was over. But as always, just the glimpse of her naked body had me wanting more.

"Bella," I called softly across the room.

"What?" she answered, tying the drawstring of her baggy knit pants into a bow.

I waited until she looked at me before I spoke.

"You complete me." I waggled an eyebrow at her suggestively.

She began laughing again, just as she had earlier at Ben's comment.

"You complete me, too," she giggled as she crawled into bed next to me. "But how about we 'complete' each other tomorrow after the festival, okay?" She made quote marks in the air with her fingers and gave me an eyebrow waggle of her own.

"Fair enough." I grinned and put my arm around her as she snuggled into the crook of my arm.

"I hope movie night wasn't too boring for you," she said, stroking my stomach softly with her fingers.

"Not at all. It was just what I needed."

"I kind of liked that film," she admitted, sounding a little sheepish. "I like against-all-odds romances."

I gave her a wry smile before I reached over and turned off her bedside lamp. "That one was more of a doomed romance, I'd say."

"You think so? I don't know. I got the feeling that they would work it out."

"A vampire and a human? No way. He would have had to turn her into a vampire, too, for it to work. She'd have to give up her whole life for him. Literally."

"But that's what she wanted," Bella protested.

I stroked her arm, wondering if she could feel me shaking my head in the dark. "That would be too big a sacrifice. No wonder he didn't want her to make it."

"But she was willing. He was the one holding back." Bella's hand was over my heart then, her fingers like feathers over my skin.

"He was doing it for her own good," I reminded her.

"Yes, but who is he to play God? It's her life. Her decision. She should know what makes her happy."

I was silent. I got the feeling we weren't talking about the movie anymore.

"Being with him makes her happy," she continued. "He should just accept that, and do what it takes to make it happen. It's what he wants, too. He shouldn't fight her so hard."

"Maybe he doesn't want to drag her down to his level," I murmured.

She sighed, her breath hot on my chest. "Maybe he isn't half the monster he makes himself out to be."

I pondered that for a moment. I wanted to believe it.

"Maybe," I conceded.

The moon seeping around the edges of her window blinds lent just enough light so that I could see the outline of her face in the dark. I stroked her hair and concentrated on the glint of her ivory skin until sleep finally found me.

* * *

_BTW, I love the original Twilight movie. It's still my favorite, despite its many shortcomings. It captured the magic. It gave us The Kiss. It gave us Promward. *sigh*_


	40. Countdown, day 6

**Note to Seattleites: Not being from Seattle, or even having visited, for that matter, I wasn't aware a few chapters back that the famous Bumbershoot arts and music festival happens there every Labor Day weekend. Thus, my fictional Seattle Music Fest would not be scheduled at the same time, because it would be silly to compete with that. So I'll have to ask you to suspend your disbelief and imagine that this festival might actually take place on Labor Day weekend, much like one of Seattle's Peace Concert series.**

**This chapter came out longer than I thought it would. Old habits die hard.**

**P.S. Thanks to Eidolon9 for her insightful feedback, support and general all-around great friendship. What would I do without ya? ;)**

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_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, September 4**

"Edwa-a-a-a-rd!"

The hairs on my neck rose at the sound of my name piercing the noisy air, though I'd now recognize that overzealous shriek anywhere. I craned my neck to find the source, refusing to give up my place in line at the beer ticket booth.

I soon spotted Jessica Stanley, impatiently elbowing her way through the Seattle Music Fest crowd to get in the queue, and somehow she'd recognized me in the throng. I looked right and left, realizing I happened to stand almost a head taller than the guys on either side of me.

"Hey, Jess," I called as she made her way toward me.

"Hey," she said with a huge grin, panting and wiping her brow. She turned to the guy behind me and did an impressive eyelash-batting thing before imploring, "Can I cut in, please? We got separated and I've been looking for him forever. You know how it is." She hooked her arm through mine for emphasis as she spoke.

Her guileless expression had the guy behind me grumbling, "Sure, whatever," with a shrug.

"You're a good liar," I whispered after he turned back to his buddy.

"I prefer to call it 'stretching the truth,'" she replied. "Besides, we did get separated, at 5 p.m. yesterday, to be exact."

"Indeed we did," I said with an appreciative grin. "I like how you think."

"It comes in handy," she agreed. "I gotta get plenty of beer tickets, or the natives will be restless. Literally," she added with a laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm here with Jacob Black," she said with smug satisfaction. "Well, and the whole Wolf Pack, really. They kind of let me tag along. They dropped me off at the gate to come and get the beverage tickets while they park the van. But I get to spend the whole day and night with Jake, so that's progress, right?"

"Absolutely," I said with a smile. "I'm not sure Jacob deserves you, though."

"Aw, that's sweet of you to say. Unless you know something I don't. He's not still hitting on Bella, is he?" she ended in dismay.

"Not that I know of. I think she made herself clear where they stand. But I've never expected that kid to give up too easily."

Jessica looked worried, which made me add, "But if anyone can win him over and make him see the error of his ways, it's you."

Her face brightened and her usual confidence returned. "You are so right about that."

We shuffled forward in line, but not quickly enough for my liking. The sun was warm and I was thirsty. I was sure my siblings and friends were getting anxious for a beer.

"You know, I almost didn't recognize you," Jessica said, eyeing me up and down. "You dirty up real nice."

I chuckled as I glanced down at my ragged t-shirt and jeans. "I guess you've never seen me outside of the office, other than at the Black and Red Ball."

"No, I haven't. I'm a little surprised. As uptight as you are, I always pictured you in a polo and designer jeans," she teased.

"Oh, geezus. Do me a favor and shoot me if you ever see me in such a getup. It will mean I've either lost my mind or I've been kidnapped and brainwashed by aliens. Either way, death will be a sweet release."

Jessica let out a hearty laugh. "You surprise the hell out of me sometimes. It's like there's a secret side of you I've never even seen before. A whole different Edward Cullen."

I raised one cryptic eyebrow. "Maybe there is."

"Stop," she ordered. "I love a man of mystery, but I'm not barking up that tree, attractive as it is. Like I said before, that would be weird."

"Very weird," I agreed. "And Bella would have your hide. At least, I hope she would."

"Are you here with her?"

"Sort of. She and Rosalie are working." I pointed back at the stage area, where I could barely see the two of them in the distance, their heads bowed over a clipboard. "I came with Emmett and Alice, and some other friends. We've got a big blanket spread out on the lawn, stage left, if you want to come over."

"Oh, wow. That's cool," Jessica said. "Maybe we'll come sit with you."

"Sure, that'd be great," I said with a smile, wondering if I was as convincing a liar as Jessica was.

We each bought the maximum number of beverage tickets allowed, then wove through the crowd to the nearest beer tent for our first round. Unfortunately, the Wolf Pack showed up right before we were served. I made nice, congratulating them on their record deal. Front man Sam thanked me, and said that if all went well, they hoped their band would be performing at the Music Fest next year. I wished them luck, avoiding Jacob Black's surly gaze. I actually liked the guys in the band. For that matter, I had liked Jacob well enough before I'd confirmed his connection to Bella. I decided to put my feelings about that aside and have a drama-free day.

"Edward and Emmett are sitting over there," Jessica told them, gesturing across the park. "You want to join them?"

"You're welcome to come over," I added in the sincerest voice I could muster. "The more the merrier."

"Cool," Sam said, and the others agreed. Jacob's eyes narrowed at me, but he said nothing.

The band helped us carry the drinks back to our crew. Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Angela and Ben cheered when appeared with their brews.

"Sorry, bro, I should have gone with you," Emmett apologized as he came to help us distribute the cups. He'd been up at the stage, talking to Rosalie, when I had decided to make a beer run. I was still so irked that I could barely stand the sight of her.

"Eh, it's fine. Jessica and I had a nice talk." I winked at her and she grinned.

"I really don't want to know what that's all about," Emmett said with a laugh.

"Me neither," Jacob said jokingly, though the joke fell flat. He put his arm protectively on Jessica's shoulder, which she ate up like a famine victim getting a bowl of gruel.

I tried not to sneer openly at him, turning my attention to the next band on the roster of local talent. I was grateful when their loud music filled the air, cutting off any meaningful conversation for awhile.

It was a beautiful day in Gas Works Park, the sky a brilliant late-summer blue, the air growing warm and heavy as the day went on. That didn't stop a mosh pit from forming in front of the stage, the crowed getting drunker and rowdier with each band that came on. The Wolf Pack members talked about jumping into the fray, and I hoped they would. I was getting tired of Jacob's beady eyes on me, stealing surreptitious glances every now and then and making me wonder what the hell his problem was.

I didn't have to wait too long to find out. As soon as all the females of our group left to visit the portable toilets in one predictable flock, Jacob made his move.

"How about we go get refills for everyone?" he suggested, standing up and motioning to the nearest beer tent.

I nodded and got up to join him, bracing myself for whatever was coming.

"So how are things going between you and Bella?" he blurted as we made our way around the perimeter of the crowd. He tried to make it sound nonchalant, but I don't think that particular subtlety is in his repertoire.

"Not that it's any of your business, but things are great," I said. It came out in a clipped tone that was less than convincing.

"Really," he said skeptically, a comment more than a question. "Then why doesn't she seem very happy lately?"

I bristled at his nerve. Of course, since he didn't know a thing about what Rosalie had done, he assumed that Bella's preoccupation at work had something to do with me.

"What makes you think she's unhappy?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I've known her a long time," he said, the implication being that he therefore knew her better than I did. "I can tell when something's bothering her. She gets that little line in her forehead, between her eyes, and she doesn't focus on what you're saying."

I know that little line well. I dreaded its appearance on Bella's lovely face, and I hated the thought that she was still that uncomfortable at work. I also felt like telling Jacob that maybe she didn't focus on him because she didn't give a rat's ass about whatever he happened to be yammering about at the time.

"So what makes you think that whatever's bothering her has anything to do with me?" I asked as we approached the beer tent line.

"Well, the last time I saw the two of you together, that day that you were at Java Noise, you were pretty cold toward her. I assumed you were upset with her about something."

"Again, none of your business, but I was a little upset that day. We had a slight misunderstanding and that was it. Everything's fine between us. No need for you to worry about it, or her."

"Yeah, well, I do worry," he retorted. "She's an old friend of mine and I don't want to see her get hurt. I didn't like how you treated her that day. If I find out that's how you treat her all the time, you're going to have to answer to me."

He stopped at the end of the beer line and crossed his beefy arms, puffing out his chest; but he still had to look up at me, no matter how high he jutted his chin. Part of me wanted to slug the antagonistic smirk off of his face, but the other part of me refused to acknowledge his threats as anything more than a ridiculous joke.

"Why don't you worry about your own date tonight instead of mine?" I suggested tersely. "Jessica is a great girl. You should give her a chance."

"She's nice," he said noncommittally. "A little flighty for my taste."

"She might surprise you in that department," I told him. "I underestimated her myself. You could do a lot worse."

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Again, I was tempted to slug him.

"Or maybe she could do a lot better," I added under my breath.

"What was that?" he snapped.

"Nothing," I said, motioning for him to move forward in line as the people in front of us advanced.

Luckily the queue moved quickly, because he and I had nothing more to say to one another. We carried our beers in stony silence back to our group, offering them to the girls first.

"You look like you're about to blow a gasket," Alice hissed up at me as she took the last beer. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing. Just Jacob Black sticking his big, fat nose where it doesn't belong again."

"Is he still crushing on Bella? I thought she took care of that the night of the ball."

"Apparently he has a hard time taking 'no' for an answer. I'm not surprised."

"Well, maybe now's your chance to drive the point home," Alice said with sudden enthusiasm. She waved wildly at someone in the distance. I turned my head toward the stage, only to see Bella weaving around the swarm of sweaty bodies in front of it. She looked ridiculously hot in her skin-tight jeans, Converse high-tops and body-skimming t-shirt, tied in a knot at the waist. She'd still been in bed when I left this morning, and she was already at the park by the time I got off work. I'd only waved at her from a distance so far. The closer she came, the more my heart raced. I wonder if my heart will ever stop racing for her. I can't imagine that day ever coming.

I went to meet her halfway, grabbing her in my arms and swinging her around before covering her in kisses.

"Wow," she said with a happy smile as she broke away. "What was that for?"

"Because you look incredible, and I missed you today," I proclaimed, which was true. I left out the fact that I might also be looking to obliterate any lingering hopes Jacob Black had of stealing her away from me.

"I missed you too," she said, still grinning up at me. "You like my rocker chick look, don't you?" she added with the quirk of one eyebrow.

"You have no idea. I'm about ready to drag you back to that rusty old gas plant and have my way with you," I said, referring to the mammoth gasification structures that loomed in the background behind the crowd.

"You and public sex," she teased. "You aren't going to let that go until we cross it off our checklist, are you?"

"I wasn't aware we had a checklist. But if you're keeping one, I'd love to see it."

She rolled her eyes slightly and changed the subject. "Listen, I don't have to be backstage again for another hour or so. Rose told me to go ahead and take a break, and get something to eat. Have you all had dinner yet?"

"No, not yet. We've just been getting drunk instead," I said with a laugh as I steered her back toward our friends.

"There's a surprise," she replied. "We should all go get a brat or something."

We met our friends, or enemies, as the case may be, arm in arm. I tried to keep my possessive nature at bay, but it was no use. I wanted to rub in Jacob Black's face that there was absolutely nothing for him to be suspicious about concerning Bella and me - no trouble in paradise whatsoever. I'm determined to keep it that way for ten more days, at any rate.

Alice, Jasper, Angela and Ben opted to join us on our quest to find food; Emmett decided to wait for Rosalie, who said she'd take a break when Bella returned. Likewise, Jessica said she'd stay with Jacob, who obviously had no wish to go anywhere with me and my girlfriend.

"So were you shocked to see Jessica here with Jake?" Bella asked me as we walked away. "He didn't tell me he was bringing her here."

"That's probably because she's still his second choice," I said as we trailed behind the others to the food trucks.

"I don't think so," Bella argued with a shake of her head.

"Oh, I know so. He asked me point blank if you and I were getting along. He thinks you're unhappy, and I'm to blame."

"What?" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing angrily. "He actually said that?"

"Well, not in so many words. He says he thinks something's bothering you, and since he knows nothing about what went down with Rosalie, he assumes it must be my fault."

"That's ridiculous," she said, the tiny line Jacob mentioned earlier forming between her brows.

"Is it?" I asked uncertainly.

The line deepened. "Of course. If I look unhappy at work, it's because of Rosalie. It's still hard for me to look her in the eye. On the other hand, I'd look into your eyes twenty-four seven if I could." She tilted her head up and blinked her eyes dramatically at me to make me laugh.

"Neither of us would get much done, though, would we?" I said, still grinning.

"I think I'd be okay with that." She grinned back.

"I don't know. You're in your element here, surrounded by music. And you look hot with that VIP pass around your neck. So official."

She laughed and waved the laminated plastic in the air. "Stick with me and I'll take you places, kid," she joked. "No, seriously, I want you to come backstage with me while Vegan Vamps is playing. It's kind of a big moment for me and I want you to be there."

"What about Rose?" I hedged.

"To hell with Rose," she declared. "I don't give a flying fuck anymore. I've been here all day going over set lists and schedules and listening to unsigned warm-up acts. I'm tired and hungry, and if I want my boyfriend to be with me when my first recording act makes its debut headlining performance, then damn it, you're allowed to be there."

We came to a stop behind Alice and Jasper at the seafood booth, and I stared at Bella for a moment, mouth ajar. I'd never heard her sound so angry and fed up, or so passionate about wanting me with her. I was touched, and more than a little turned on.

I reached my hand up to cup her face, rubbing my thumb along her jaw.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Do what? Lose my temper?" she said with a laugh.

"Make me fall more in love with you every day."

Our eyes did that little dance; shared that knowledge beyond words.

"You make it easy," she said softly.

I wished that were true.

Alice interrupted us then, asking us what we were going to order. I didn't even care about the food anymore, but I knew Bella was famished, so I picked something off the menu after asking her what she wanted.

We all sat in a circle, cross-legged in the grass, and ate our fish tacos and sandwiches. Bella filled us in on what she'd been doing all day while we were lazing around on our blankets, enjoying the results. I loved seeing her excited like this, face flushed, eyes shining. She did look tired, but happy. I felt that ache inside me again; that yearning for her. I suggested we take a walk around the park before she had to go backstage again.

She agreed, and took my hand while we made our way around the perimeter of festival-goers. The crowd thinned as we reached the rusted fossil of the old coal-burning plant, surrounded by a chain link fence to keep people from poking around its remains.

"I wonder how often people sneak over this fence and check out the old buildings?" I mused as we reached the back of the abandoned facility.

"It's probably an electronic one that'll zap you if you try," Bella said with a laugh.

"Nah, I doubt it. I'll bet we could scale this fence and no one would be the wiser." I looked up at its meager height, then down at Bella with a quirk of my eyebrow.

"You aren't serious," she said.

"I can't think of a more interesting place to make love to you right now," I whispered. Before she could pipe up in protest, I covered her lips with mine, devouring her in a hungry kiss. I couldn't stop myself - tongue roaming her mouth, fingers tangling her hair, body pushing hers against the chain link fence.

She responded with a stifled moan, her own mouth and hands answering the call, her body straining to meet mine. And then she wrenched her mouth free, turning her head quickly in either direction, obviously nervous about anyone watching. There was no one around. We were alone in the dark at the back of the plant, and I felt my need for her consuming every other consideration.

I slid my hand under her t-shirt, pulling at the thin cotton of her bra until my thumb found her nipple. I rubbed it into a rigid button while my other hand grasped her face.

"No one's here. No one's watching," I murmured before my mouth took hers again. She whimpered and her hands worked their way under my shirt, hot brands on my back that only spurred me on.

I dropped both hands to the zipper of her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them while she protested weakly. I pushed them down her hips until I could slide my hand easily into her panties, finding her sweet spot and stroking it until my fingers were wet.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you're passionate about your work?" I said, my voice gruff with desire now.

"Oh God," she whispered, sounding half turned-on, half frustrated. "I'm glad you think so, but that's the thing - I'm _working_."

"You're on break," I reminded her. I unzipped my own pants and grabbed her hand, guiding it where I needed her touch. Her fingers gripped me, perhaps out of habit or instinct, even as she continued to protest.

"There's not enough time to do this right now." But her hand began stroking me up and down, in rhythm with my fingers pushing inside her.

"I have the feeling we can finish each other off pretty quickly," I answered in between labored breaths. I kissed her again, and our mouths mirrored the movement of our hands, working in time together, tongues stroking and probing, breath hot on each other's faces.

In the distance, the air was filled with music again; the next band was beginning their set. I took advantage of the background noise to make more of my own, voicing my pleasure at what we were doing to each other.

But Bella suddenly stiffened and pulled away, removing her hand from me and wrenching my wrist out of her panties.

"Shit! I have to get back. I was supposed to be backstage by the time the next act started." She yanked at the zipper of her jeans and buttoned them closed while I blinked at her, stunned at her abrupt withdrawal.

"Surely Rose can live for another ten minutes until you get there," I said with a tinge of bitterness, stuffing my still-throbbing dick back in my underwear. "You don't owe her any favors, as far as I'm concerned."

"It's not just about her. This is my job. I said I'd be back, and I keep my word."

I nodded silently, zipping up my jeans and trying to arrange my hard-on so it wouldn't be so obvious until it had time to calm down.

"Edward," she said softly, her hand closing around my forearm. "Do you remember what you said about never doing anything to compromise your integrity when you're at the office? You said you wanted to be above reproach."

My eyes softened as they regarded the seriousness of hers. "Point taken," I said guiltily.

She slid her hand down until her fingers laced with mine. "Don't worry. I'll make it worth the wait later on, I promise."

I leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. "I'm sorry if I pushed you."

She shook her head. "Are you kidding? I love how turned on I make you. That's the best feeling in the world."

"You might as well put a leash on my dick and lead me around with it," I replied ruefully.

"Now there's an interesting thought," she said with an eyebrow waggle at me. "But for now, I think I'll go irritate the hell out of Rose by bringing you backstage with me."

"I'm all for that," I said with a grin.

We walked hand in hand all the way back toward the shoreline stage, and Bella waved her VIP pass at one of the burly security guards who stood between the surging crowd and the band onstage. Next thing I knew, we were climbing the stairs to the rear of the stage, where Rosalie and several other industry types were watching the current artists perform.

"Sorry I'm late," Bella said to Rose.

Rosalie gave us one of her patented forced smiles. "No problem. There's still another act before Vegan Vamps. I'll go grab a quick sandwich and be back before you know it."

"Don't hurry on our account," I told her.

Rosalie and I exchanged tense looks.

"Emmett hasn't eaten yet. He's waiting for you," I added a bit more gently.

"Thanks. I won't be long," she insisted again before leaving. "Bella can show you around and introduce you to our next 'big thing.' They're in the green room right now."

"The 'green room?'" I asked Bella with an incredulous laugh.

"There's a trailer set up out back for the bands to eat, drink and be merry," she explained. "And there's a warm-up tent before they go on, too."

She showed me around the backstage area, introducing me to promoters and crew. Then we went out to the trailer to meet her first Java Noise find, the oddly named Vegan Vamps, and their manager. We talked music for a bit, and I found out their influences were mostly old-school Seattle grunge, but also a lot of older work that I always connected with. It was fun talking shop with them, and I vowed to somehow introduce Jasper and his band to the group. Bella thought that was a great idea and said she'd try to hook them up.

We followed them out to the warm-up tent after a bit, where they were able to plug in and do some preliminary rehearsing before going onstage. The Seattle Music Fest was still a relatively new showcase for up-and-coming local talent and featured only one central stage, though plans were in the works to expand the festival so that two alternating stages would be available.

I could feel the excitement beginning to buzz in the air as I watched the guys rehearse, amping themselves up for their biggest gig to date. I allowed myself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would feel like to be one of those guys. To be gearing myself up to face that many people watching me. Judging me. But maybe, in the end, embracing me.

The thought was mostly terrifying, but there was a certain appeal to it, too. Just going out there, balls to the wall, and giving it all up on the stage, letting the chips fall where they may. I was certain the catharsis would be exhilarating, ten times more intense than anything I had felt in my little coffee house performances. But if I faltered, it would be a hell of a lot longer and harder a fall than I'd ever experienced, too.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella's voice wafted softly up to interrupt my reverie.

"That these guys are brave," I said at last.

She squeezed my hand. "You know what they say - no guts, no glory."

"You've got that right," I agreed with a wan smile.

As always, she seemed to know instinctively what I was thinking. "You could do this if you wanted to."

There was no pressure in her tone, only quiet confidence.

"I'm glad you think so," I said.

"You're stronger than you know," she insisted, squeezing my hand again.

_You're the strong one. You always have been, _I wanted to say.

But it was nearly time for Vegan Vamps to take the stage, and Bella and Rosalie went to assist the band's manager while the crew set up their gear. Bella made sure the band's set list was taped to an onstage monitor and that they had plenty of bottled water at their disposal. I could tell that she liked doing the hands-on, little things, even though she wasn't really responsible for them. She never did anything half-way. I felt my love and respect for her grow, when I didn't even know there was room for more.

I watched her as much as I watched the band while they performed, just like that first night at the Wolf Pack show. She mesmerized me completely. Just the way she was; _who_ she was. Excited, happy, living in the moment. She brought me there with her, and I loved the stay.

I stayed as long as she did, which was long after the show was over. She wanted to congratulate the band and have a celebratory bottle of champagne with them. She had discovered them, and now they had just headlined their first festival, with a debut CD coming out next week. I could see that this was her moment; she had arrived. Even Rosalie looked utterly sincere as she raised her glass to Bella, and everyone cheered. Bella's eyes brimmed with happy tears, but she blinked them back and raised her glass, letting herself revel in the glory for a minute. I hadn't even known her when she had gone to bat for this band, but I couldn't have been more proud of her if I'd seen every step she'd taken to help get them to this point.

Shortly after, Rose left in search of my brother. I asked her to relay the message that I'd be going home with Bella. She said she'd be happy to, and again, her expression was sincere, maybe even contrite. My heart felt a little bigger tonight, and my "Thanks," to her was honest.

Bella and I lingered until the champagne had run dry. I let her drink most of it and offered to drive her truck home. She readily agreed, but not before she dragged me in the backseat to have her way with me. She let me make love to her in the mostly empty parking lot, insisting that it was still a public place and thus constituted taboo sex.

"What makes you think I'm obsessed with taboo sex?" I asked as I wrestled with her skinny jeans, trying to pull the resistant fabric from her body.

"You're the one who brought up having sex in public, at that diner last week," she reminded me.

"Yes, because I think it would turn you on. You like a little mild perversion. Don't deny it." I leaned in and covered her mouth with mine before she could answer.

"Lucky for you," she gasped when I finally moved my lips south. "Mr. Handcuffed Anal Sex Toy Spankings," she said, her words slightly slurred with alcohol.

"Just say the word and it's straight missionary position from now on," I said with mock solemnity.

She scowled and fumbled with the zipper of my jeans until her hands found their way to my erection.

"Shut up and fuck me," she commanded.

I was only too happy to comply. I made love to her in the missionary position anyway, and she climaxed most spectacularly, her face as flushed and excited and exhausted as it had been earlier, during the show. I was ecstatic that I could make her as high as her other passion did. It felt like a privilege.

I hovered above her, memorizing her satisfied face, relishing the feel of her spent body beneath me.

"You complete me," I said softly with a slight grin.

She didn't laugh. "I didn't even know I was incomplete until I met you," she said quietly.

I nodded, and our eyes said the rest.

We fell asleep in the back seat of Bella's old Chevy. My neck was stiff and my back was aching when the dawn's light awakened me, but it was still one of the best nights of my life.


	41. Countdown, day 7

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Sunday, September 5**

Sundays are becoming my favorite days with Bella. Neither of us was raised going to church regularly, yet we seem to treat this day of the week more reverently than the others.

We sleep in, we make breakfast. We talk, we laugh, we eat, we play. We make music, we make love.

We do nothing out of the ordinary from any other couple lazing on a Sunday afternoon. Yet every moment feels imbued with significance, somehow. It's the subtle sensation of memories being made.

Today we gave each other massages. We were both aching from the hours we'd slept curled up on the bench seat in the back of Bella's rust-bucket truck. She hadn't seen Katrina in two weeks, and I no longer cared about any therapist-client improprieties. I cared about Bella staying healthy and whole.

She was nearly asleep in my bed from relaxation when I sprang my surprise on her.

"So, have you thought about what you'd like to do for your birthday weekend?" I asked as I smoothed the tightness out of her shoulder blades.

"My birthday's on a Monday," she mumbled into the pillow beneath her.

"I know. That's why I thought we could start celebrating early. If you don't have any other plans, of course."

She snorted softly. "What plans would I have that didn't include you?"

"Well, for all I know, you and Angela have some annual ritual that you can't miss in honor of each other's big day," I guessed. "Or maybe your dad wants to come see you or something."

"Charlie hates the city. He'll beg me to come visit Forks before he ever comes here willingly."

"So it sounds like you might be free next Saturday, then."

She laughed again. "Of course, I am. What do you have in mind?"

"Have you ever been sailing?" I asked her, moving my hands down to the middle of her back. She sighed appreciatively as I slowly pulled the tension from her tissues.

"No," she said, her mumbles sounding more excited. "Do you know how to sail?"

"No," I answered with a chuckle. "But I know a guy at Seattle Tennis Club who'll take us out on his boat if the weather is decent."

"Really?" She raised herself up on her elbows and craned her neck around to look at me with shining eyes. "I've only been out on crappy little motor boats with Charlie, back when he used to try to teach me to fish. But taking a sailboat out on the Sound . . . that'd be awesome. Oh, he'll be so jealous."

"Okay, I'll make the arrangements, then," I said, pleased that she liked the idea. I didn't really have a plan B. Ever since I'd met Bella, I'd imagined taking her to the club for the day. For a nominal fee, an old family friend of Mom's often took people out for day trips on his sailboat. I'd already checked to see if he was available next weekend, and he sounded happy to take us out. He even offered to do it at no charge, though I insisted on paying.

"Afterward, I thought we could eat at the club," I continued. "I've been wanting to treat you to dinner someplace really nice - payback for all the cooking you do for me. Just don't tell Katrina or she'll have my hide. She's always giving me crap because I never let her stay for dinner after our tennis matches."

"Why don't you?" Bella mumbled into the pillow again.

"I don't know." I had reached her lower back then, and was amazed at how much more stable her body was than it had been when she first came to me. I knelt my head down to place a gentle kiss on her tailbone. She made a sound of contentment, not unlike that of Lucky's purring from the other side of the bed where he slept.

"I guess I never asked Kate to dinner there because it's the kind of place you take someone special," I said at last. "At least, the restaurant I want to take you to is."

She looked back over her shoulder at me again, her face worried this time. "I don't have anything to wear to a place like that. Unless I pull out my ball gown," she added with a chortle.

"You don't need anything fancy. It's a sports club," I reminded her.

"The most prestigious one in the city. The one with a ten-year waiting list. The kind of place where people can smell cheap, off-the-rack clothes coming before you ever enter the room," she groaned.

I chuckled at her groundless worries. "Yeah, there are snobs there, for sure. But the majority of 'em don't care what you're wearing. And the wealthiest of the bunch are usually the most poorly dressed. When you have that much money, it ceases to have meaning. They're not out to impress anyone."

"Huh," she said, sounding unconvinced.

"The views are amazing. I think you'll love it. And I might be able to arrange for us to eat outdoors, someplace secluded, if you're that worried about what people are going to think of you."

"I'm not," she said, relenting a little. "I don't care where we eat as long as you're across the table from me."

"Me neither," I said softly as I massaged her tailbone. "You know, you've made amazing progress here. Do you notice the difference?"

She nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down her back. "I feel almost normal again. I never even thought it was possible."

"Neither did I," I murmured under my breath. But I was talking about myself.

"My turn," she announced suddenly when my hands stilled on her back. "I've been wanting to give you a massage for ages."

"You have? What the hell's been stopping you?" I demanded with a grin.

I admired her lithe body as she stretched like a cat and then raised herself up. My eyes raked over curves, clad only in her ubiquitous cotton panties with the lacy trim. I felt the stirrings of lust deep in my groin, and wondered when, or if, those urges would ever fade. I hoped they never would. "Forever" didn't sound so daunting when I considered spending it with her.

"I have no idea what I'm doing, you know," she said with a measure of trepidation as I took her place and settled face-down on the mattress.

"I don't care," I assured her. "No matter how you touch me, your hands on my body will be the best thing that happens to me all day. Well, except for that swirly thing you did with your tongue in the shower earlier."

I could almost feel her grin as I watched her hand reach for the massage crème on the bedside table. I heard her rub her hands together, then felt their cool, creamy touch on my shoulders moments later. The deep sigh my lungs expelled was one of total contentment. I knew that her lack of skills or proper technique wouldn't mean a damned thing to me. It would still be the best massage I'd ever had.

I could feel her mimicking my methods, and I smiled into the pillow. She moved her hands slowly along each muscle group of my back, working the hard spots, smoothing the muscles that were pulled too taut. I relaxed completely under her warm touch, eager for her small but firm fingers to probe and explore every inch of my skin. The more her hands stroked and rubbed, the more they seemed to sink into me, becoming a part of me.

I wondered if that's how she felt when I worked on her. Like the lines between us were blurred, muddied beyond recognition. It was a different kind of oneness than sex. It was a sensuality that calmed and soothed; a joining together that healed.

I surrendered to the sway of her gentle hands and let the healing begin.


	42. Countdown, day 8

**Thanks, everyone, for all your comments this past week. They really do mean a lot to me. I wish I could answer all you "anons" in person, but just know that I'm grateful for your support.**

**Yo, Kit...this one's for you. ;-)**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Monday, September 6**

Every time I have to ride the ferry, I remember why I hate it so much.

No matter what I do, that one particular memory of you nags at the corners of my mind, wanting to replay in its entirety. I never let it, if I can help it.

But even as I sat next to Bella today, concentrating on how pretty she looked with the blue waters of the Sound over her shoulder, I heard your words echo in my ears.

_What if I jumped? Would you come in after me? Or would you let me drown?_

And then you laughed, in that slightly unhinged way that gave me my first glimpse of the truth about you. The disturbing sound of a joke too frightening to be funny.

_Come on, let's do it! Let's jump together. I'm a good swimmer; so are you. We'll see how long it takes for the Coast Guard to come rescue us . . . _

I let out a sick laugh now as I remembered my response. _Are __you __insane? __Do __you __have __a __death __wish __or __something?_

They were rhetorical questions at the time. I just blamed it on the E then. You were high as a kite that evening. Again. I think that was about the time that I began to grow weary of being your babysitter.

"What was that for?" Bella's question thankfully derailed my train of thought.

"What?" I asked nonchalantly, trying to mask the shudder of anxiety that had just run down my spine.

"That little laugh."

"Oh . . . just remembering your buddy Jacob's face the other day when he was threatening me to treat you right, or else," I covered quickly.

"Ugh." Bella rolled her eyes. "I can't believe he called you out like that. Ridiculous. You treat me like a princess," she insisted.

I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard Rosalie emit a snort not unlike the one I'd just uttered moments ago. I glanced down the bench over Emmett's hulking form in time to see her eyes dart away from me and look out over the water.

I tried to ignore my suspicion and turned back to Bella. "You don't deserve anything less."

Her eyes rolled skyward again and she gave my leg a gentle nudge with hers. "Whatever. Jake needs to step off. I don't know how many times I have to explain to him that he and I are just friends."

"Well, maybe that's all he's doing-trying to be a good friend to you, Bella," Rose piped up. "He's just looking out for you. That's not such a bad thing."

I could feel the hairs prickle on the back of my neck as my eyes narrowed at her. I was beginning to think I needed to get to the bottom of her animosity toward me. I couldn't imagine what I'd done to provoke it.

"She's right," I said, glancing down at Rose in time to catch her look of surprise. "I don't mind you having someone at work who's watching out for your best interests."

Rosalie's eyes narrowed at me and her mouth formed a tight line. I knew my arrow had hit its mark.

Bella's look was knowing, even grateful, as she covered my hand with hers. I gave her a surreptitious wink; the ghost of a grin passed over her lips.

Emmett cleared his throat loudly. "So, I wonder how Jasper fared at Mom and Dad's all night?" he wondered aloud, wisely changing the subject.

"Good question," I said. I couldn't believe it when Alice told me he was actually going to spend the whole weekend there, helping her pack. "We may not even have to fire up the barbecue. I'm sure Jasper's already been thoroughly grilled," I said with a chuckle.

"Stop," Bella said in exasperation. "I refuse to believe your parents are that bad. I like what I've seen of them so far. And I can't wait to see where you grew up."

"Me neither," Rose said, smiling up at my brother.

"I'm sure they'll be only too happy to give you a mind-numbing tour of the house and the grounds," I sighed.

Emmett chimed in then. "Ah, yes. Brace yourselves, ladies, because that will include a long and laborious stay in the Chamber of Horrors." He raised an ominous eyebrow at them, then at me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rose laughed.

"The Chamber of Horrors is what we Cullen kids lovingly call the room Mom has turned into a shrine of trophies and awards from our childhood, plus endless, relentless volumes of family photo albums and videos," I informed them.

"You know Mom's gonna whip those babies out to embarrass the hell out of us at the first opportunity," bemoaned Emmett with a shake of his head.

The girls practically squealed with glee while my brother and I groaned at the prospect.

"Hey, it's only fair," Bella said, giving me an elbow this time. "I showed you all my dorky childhood pictures. Now it's time for payback."

"Oh, I can't wait," Rosalie said with relish. "Naked baby photos, toothless school portraits, bad hair-do's, hideous prom tuxes. . ." She trailed off and gave us a wicked grin.

"Christ," Emmett and I both swore in unison. Even though our girlfriends were obviously looking forward to our impending humiliation, I knew that would be nothing compared to Mom's utter delight in outing our most awkward moments.

"I wonder if Jasper has already been through the Chamber and survived?" Emmett mused with a grin.

"Probably that and more. Dad may have unleashed his 'What Are Your Plans For The Future?' speech," I said portentously.

Emmett shuddered dramatically. "Or worse yet, the 'What Are Your Plans For Our Daughter?' speech! Thank God we'll be spared that one."

"Don't be so sure," I retorted. "He's probably practicing a special version just for us. Something like, 'What Do You Plan To Tell The Father Of The Girl You're Dating Who Wants To Know What Your Plans Are For Her?'"

"Stop!" Bella demanded again between giggles. "You have two parents who are kind and loving and care about what happens to you. Don't knock it. Not everyone is so lucky."

I sobered up quickly and took her hand in mine. "You're right," I said, sufficiently chastised. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I like how close your family is - the way you all tease each other. It's nice."

I stroked her hand with my thumb. "Do you miss having brothers and sisters?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You can't really miss what you've never had. But sometimes I think it would be nice to have a bigger family. I don't even have that many cousins, and they're spread out all over the country. I'm not close to any of them."

"Families are all right sometimes," I begrudgingly admitted with a sidelong grin at Emmett. I felt like telling Bella that if I had my way, she'd never be without a family, but it seemed too soon for that. I didn't want to scare her with any more premature marriage talk. I wondered why I kept having those thoughts myself, because God knows that before Bella, I never did. But there was an inevitability to the two of us, together, that I could feel in my bones.

I was actually looking forward to taking her to my parents' home. That, too, was inevitable.

As the ferry neared Bainbridge Island, the sun overhead began to lose its battle with an army of encroaching clouds, and the water became a bit choppy.

"I hope it doesn't rain," Rosalie lamented, frowning into the horizon.

"Par for the course on a holiday," Emmett commented.

"Especially a Seattle holiday," I added.

"I don't care. We'll still have fun," Bella, insisted with determination. Her tone made me think that maybe spending the day at my family's home felt significant to her, too.

Once we docked, we retrieved Emmett's Range Rover and piled into its roomy interior. We made our way up 305 until we reached the turnoff to head south.

"See? This 'over-priced penis extension' - I believe that's what you called it - does come in handy now and then," my brother teased Rosalie as we cruised along in comfort. "I'd like to see you take the four of us anywhere in your convertible. Edward's legs wouldn't even fit in the back seat."

"Emmett, the only reason you need a vehicle like this is if you're going to take us out into wilderness to shoot bear. I'm assuming that's not on the agenda today."

"Well, you assumed wrong. How else do you think we're going to find dinner?" he shot back with a smirk.

"At the supermarket, I hope. You couldn't shoot fish in a barrel."

"Funny, you weren't complaining about my aim last night, darlin'."

Emmett and Rosalie's banter was a constant backdrop during the drive to South Beach. I interrupted them frequently to point out the landmarks of my youth to Bella.

Her eyes seemed to drink it all in-the serene landscape bordered by the Sound on all sides, with views of Mount Rainier , the Cascades and Seattle in the distance. She commented often on how beautiful Bainbridge Island is, and she was right. I never realize how peaceful it was growing up there until I leave the city and go back to visit.

As complimentary as Bella was of the entire island, she saved her best gasps for the first glimpse of our Hamptons-style home on Beans Bight Road. I suddenly saw the place through her eyes as we approached. The sheer scale of our traditional two-story, six-bedroom home nestled on an acre of prime shoreline real estate is nothing to sneeze at. The grounds are a combination of perfectly manicured lawns leading to sprawling gardens and wilderness the further one roams from the house. After I quit school and moved home, I spent a lot of time walking along the strip of white sand beach just down the hill, thinking until my brain hurt. The beauty of the place holds a tinge of sadness for me now-another thing I seem to resent you for.

"Edward, this is amazing," Bella said, sounding a bit awestruck as we trundled down the long drive.

"Well, it's no Platt estate, but it'll do in a pinch," I downplayed.

"It's gorgeous," Rosalie said simply while Emmett parked outside the carriage house. Bella nodded, still staring out the window as I exited the SUV and went to open her door for her.

"It looks like a fairytale house," she said. "Magical."

"The stone walkway to the front door really makes it look that way," Rosalie said as we all got out of the car. "Like the world's biggest fairytale cottage in the woods."

"Heh! Maybe it is," Emmett played along. "Maybe we big, bad wolves have lured you here to show you what big teeth we have." He dove for Rosalie's neck with a growl, while she laughed and shoved him away.

"You know what they say about guys with big teeth," Bella murmured to me quietly with a wicked arch of one brow.

"I'm shocked, Miss Riding-Hood," I replied with a grin. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Haven't we already played that game?" she demurred as I took her hand.

"Yes, but Show and Tell is still my favorite." I pulled her toward the rustic paving stones that led to the front door, following Emmett and Rosalie. Alice beat us all to the punch, opening the front door and waving us down the walk with a huge grin. When we finally reached the front door, she greeted the girls by name, and then Emmett and I as "Brutus" and "Doofus," respectively.

"What's with the name-calling, Dorkus?" I demanded as we stepped into the foyer.

"I call 'em as I see 'em," she replied sweetly.

"So do I, munchkin," I said with a saccharine grin back at her.

"Are you two at it already?" wafted Mom's voice from the vicinity of the kitchen. She appeared seconds later, wearing her ubiquitous "Kiss the Cook" apron. "They've been like this since Alice came out of the womb," she added to Rose and Bella, her eyes rolling heavenward as if praying for patience. She approached with arms wide open and gave us all hugs, one by one.

"I kid because I care," Alice insisted with another adoring look at me. "He can't help being a doofus. It's a congenital defect."

"Speaking of defects . . ." I began, but Mom put up her hand to shush me.

"I declare this house a squabble-free zone for the rest of the day," she announced. "Honestly, the minute you all set foot in here, you behave like teenagers again."

As if to prove it, Alice stuck her tongue out at me. I gave her my best Elvis sneer in return.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll keep these two in line," Emmett offered with an air of authority.

"You?" she scoffed. "You're the worst of the bunch."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," he answered with a wink.

Bella and Rosalie chuckled at our antics, but they both still looked a bit uncomfortable. Bella's eyes roamed left and right, taking in the expansive entryway; the long living room with its glass-walled views of the city skyline; and the grand, curving staircase that led to our old bedrooms.

"Home, sweet home," I said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Do you like it?"

"What's not to like?" she said, her tone a bit overwhelmed. "It's beautiful. I mean, it's huge and spacious, but it's still homey, you know?"

Not surprisingly, Mom beamed at that comment. "That's what I was aiming for. I always decorate so that everyone who enters here feels comfortable. Stuffy and formal is no way to live."

"Amen," I said.

"However, I do draw the line at dirty and messy," Mom added, eying my outfit up and down.

"Hey, this is fresh out of the washer," I protested.

"After about a thousand spin cycles, by the looks of it," Mom teased.

"Thanks, Mom. I can see how this day is going to go," I groused.

She laughed, reached up, ruffled my hair and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I kid because I care," she repeated Alice's sentiment with a laugh.

I glanced at my sister's smug expression and asked her, "Where's Jasper?"

"He's out back, helping Dad with the grill."

Emmett and I exchanged knowing looks.

"Should we go rescue the poor bastard?" he asked.

"I suppose," I said with a shrug. "Though it'll probably do him some good to sweat it out a bit. Like a Cullen clan initiation ceremony."

"A hazing, if you will," Emmett concurred.

"You two are ridiculous. Dad and Jasper have been having a good time this weekend. I think Jasper would rather hang with him than help me pack," Alice pouted.

"I'd rather hang upside down by my toenails than help you pack," I told her.

Alice rolled her eyes, then shot a pleading look at my girlfriend. "How do you put up with him, Bella? You must have the patience of a saint."

"She does, actually," I murmured, giving Bella a rather penitent look. She frowned slightly and shook her head as if to refute me, but we both knew it was true.

Mom stepped in then, speaking with her usual calm authority. "Why don't I show the girls around the house while you boys go help your father?"

"Sounds good," Emmett said quickly, catching my eye and nodding in the direction of the patio. I gave Bella's elbow a squeeze and then left her in the capable hands of my mother.

"Poor things. They're about to be bored out of their minds," Emmett said with a chuckle as we shuffled through the kitchen. Mom already had the island covered with every conceivable type of picnic salad - vegetable, fruit, pasta, and then some.

"Nah. Chicks love that shit," I said with a grin before opening the French glass doors to the paved wraparound deck.

Emmett looked impressed. "Spoken like a true Neanderthal! We may make a man out of you yet, young pup."

"Don't you mean, 'politically incorrect jackass?'" I corrected him.

"Same difference."

"Don't worry. I'm sure I've already achieved 'jackass' status several times over."

"Probably. I'll ask Bella later on," he threatened good-naturedly as we stepped out onto the paving stones.

"We'll probably have to rescue them from the Chamber at some point, you know. Otherwise they'll spend the entire day making fun of our childhood mullets and our old girlfriends."

Emmett gave me a look of mock horror. "Nuh-uh. We have to nip that in the bud or we'll never get laid again."

Our adolescent chortles were cut short as we reached the grill. Dad stood looking at us, arms crossed, one judgmental eyebrow aloft.

"Not that we would ever dream of engaging in premarital sex," Emmett quickly amended with a huge Cheshire grin.

"Of course not," Dad said dryly.

Jasper's chuckle carried over Dad's shoulder. He waved a basting brush at us and then went back to coating several racks of ribs with barbecue sauce. I brushed past Dad after a quick man-hug to supervise while Jasper turned the ribs.

"Looks good," I said appreciatively. I glanced back to see Dad and Emmett immersed in conversation before I added, "I'm surprised to see that Dad hasn't skewered you and thrown you up here yet." I gestured to the grill top with a laugh.

Jasper only grinned. "He's been surprisingly mellow. No serious talks yet. The most serious thing we've done all weekend was play some old video games that you left behind when you moved out. Your old man has surprisingly quick reflexes."

"Huh," I mused. Maybe Dad was actually turning over a new leaf. I remembered our talk before work that morning, when he apologized for the pressure he had put on me. Evidently he was trying to change his ways, for Alice's sake. In the past, I was sure that a school teacher wouldn't have been his ideal choice for a son-in-law, if that's where things were heading.

"He must like you," I said with a smile. "That's a good thing."

"Yeah. We get along pretty well. I mean, I remember we all had fun working together when we helped you remodel the loft. I think your dad would do anything for his kids, when it comes down to it." He brushed more barbecue sauce on the meat before closing the lid. "And we both love Alice. That's the important thing."

I was impressed at the seriousness in Jasper's eyes. I'd only seen him this focused when he was rehearsing a guitar lick, trying to get it perfect. I could see that he was putting the same effort into his relationship with my sister.

"You're going to miss her, aren't you?" I said quietly.

He smiled, but the pain in his eyes was impossible to miss.

"I know it sucks, but you two are gonna make it through this," I assured him. "I can see that it's what you both want."

As if on cue, the subject of our conversation bounded through the doors to the covered patio, then rushed over to us when she saw us around the corner at the grill.

"Smells delicious," she declared, throwing her arms around Jasper. She turned to me and said, "He and Dad made some kind of secret rub for the meat last night. They won't tell us what's in it, but they insist these will be the best ribs we've ever had."

"Secret rub? Okay, I'll try not to be scared by that. God knows what they put in it," I said.

"Eye of newt and tongue of frog," Jasper intoned with a wicked chuckle.

"I don't put it past you."

We ambled back into the kitchen, where Mom, Bella and Rosalie had just congregated to continue preparing for lunch.

"That was quick," I commented. "I was sure you'd still be stuck sitting through video of me trying to learn to walk."

"Oh, that's after lunch," Bella said with relish. "I told your Mom that I want to see it all."

"Great." My smile was more of a wince, which only made Bella giggle.

We concentrated on finishing lunch then, throwing burgers and brats on the grill along with the ribs, and pulling cooked casseroles out of the oven. By the time we were done, the food wouldn't fit on our outdoor table. We had to leave most of it on the kitchen island and help ourselves, buffet-style.

We managed to wedge all eight of us around the oblong table under our outdoor shelter, then held hands while Dad said grace. I made a mental tally of all the things I was grateful for besides the food before us, giving Bella's hand an extra squeeze as I did so. She squeezed back, and we gave each other a sidelong glance that said everything our lips did not.

The next hour or so passed in a blur of good food, beer, and laughter. The sun occasionally broke through the clouds, buoying our spirits further. It was one of those days where all seemed right with the world.

That should have been my first warning.

When we'd all eaten more than our fill and helped clean up, we began to wander off in different directions for the afternoon. Mom and Dad sat with Jasper and Alice on the deck, finalizing plans for her move back to Stanford in a couple of days. Emmett and I decided to take Rosalie and Bella on a walk around the property, though we each took off in different directions. Bella and I set off down the stone path from the back door, over the lawn and along the rock wall that separated the bluff from the beach below.

"This place is amazing," she reiterated as we walked hand in hand. "I don't know how you ever left it to move into the city."

I shrugged, looking out at the admittedly stunning mountain views across the Sound. "It's a nice getaway, but it's too removed from everyday life. I kind of like the pace of the city. There's so much more to do - restaurants and clubs, theaters and museums, all right at your fingertips."

"Yeah, I know. And I agree with that. But it's weird - being here kind of makes me a little homesick for Forks. I mean, it's nowhere near as gorgeous as this island is. It's gloomy and damp and oppressive half the time. But sometimes the monotony of a simpler life is kind of . . . comforting, I guess. Sometimes I can understand why Charlie likes it so much."

I held her hand tightly as I guided her down the grassy hill to the narrow beach. We walked along the water in silence for a moment, just enjoying the atmosphere. Yet I could feel a vague melancholy emanating from Bella, and when I glanced at her, I saw the tiny line between her brows.

"Maybe you should go visit your dad one of these weekends," I suggested. "Sounds like you're missing him a little bit."

"I guess I am," she agreed. She kicked at bits of rock and debris as we skirted the shore. "Happens to me every time my birthday rolls around. Well, not my birthday itself, of course. It's the day after that always gets to me."

I frowned at her, trying to discern her meaning. And then, an abrupt wave of horror surged from my scalp to my toes.

That was the day her mother was killed.

And that, of all days, was the day that I had been planning to unload my own horror story upon her, to absolve my conscience from any further lies of omission.

What the hell was I thinking?

I hadn't been thinking, obviously. If I had, I never would have devised this crazy countdown to begin with. The day I had made the off-hand remark to Katrina, the significance of the date I'd chosen had evaded me completely. And during the entire week that followed, I had been so caught up in my own past trauma that I had carelessly, unforgivably forgotten about Bella's.

And just like that, my Countdown was done.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered shakily. Bella's expression was curious as she looked up at me, wondering at my sudden emotional state.

"It's not your fault," she said in a tone that indicated she was stating the obvious. "You've done so much to help me let go of all that old self-blame and guilt. You know how self-defeating it is."

Her hand gripped mine harder then; her eyes were filled with meaning. I could put nothing past her. Now was the time. I should tell her, right now, and get it over with.

A sweat broke out on my brow, and it wasn't from the patchy sun overhead. I could feel panic rising in my chest, unwelcome and unrelenting. I had to get over it somehow. I had to push it down so I could find my voice and make it say the words without faltering.

"Bella, I . . . " It was no use. I had to stop for air, and the breath I took shook harder than leaves in the breeze. _I __have __so __much __to __tell __you __that __I __don__'__t __know __where __to __start. __I __don__'__t __want __to __ruin __this __perfect __day. __I __don__'__t __want __to look__back. __I __want __to __go __forward __with __you. __Please __don__'__t __make __me __go __back__.__.__._

But I knew that going back was the only way I'd ultimately be able to move ahead.

Bella gripped both of my hands now, her palms warm and strong against mine. Her eyes told me that she was ready to hear whatever I had to tell her. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, a steadier one this time. And just as I opened my mouth, a distant voice stopped me cold.

"Hey, guys!" Rosalie called from several yards away. I opened my eyes to see my brother and his girlfriend approaching from the other end of the beach. They waved in unison and gave us matching toothy grins. They were a stunning couple. And in that moment, I wanted the sea to swallow them both whole.

"Isn't this beautiful?" Rose continued as they got nearer. "You've got to go down around that bend and check out the view. If you climb the bluff, you can see in all directions. It's stunning."

"That's great," Bella said weakly. She sounded disappointed. But if I'm being honest, my relief at my reprieve was at least equal to my frustration at being interrupted.

"I was thinking about going back to the house to see the so-called Chamber of Horrors, though," Rose continued with a grin at Bella. "Do you want to come with?"

"Well, sure, but what about the bluff?" she asked, gesturing down the beach.

"I'll bring you back out here later," I offered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Oh. Okay," she said, still sounding less than enthusiastic.

"Come on, bro," Emmett said to me. "I think we'd better go with them. We might need to police Mom."

"Or at least offer disclaimers to whatever she unearths," I agreed.

We headed back to the house, where Mom was only too eager to dig out the camcorder and connect it to the TV in the Chamber. Emmett and I sat back and endured our girlfriends ooh-ing and ah-ing at videos of us as babies, then toddlers, doing all the cute and embarrassing things that babies do. The embarrassment only escalated as our video selves grew older and more awkward. Bella and Rosalie couldn't stop laughing as they watched us suffer through adolescence, voices cracking and limbs too long to coordinate. Their laughter lessened as we reached the high school years and began to look like younger versions of who we are today. "So handsome," Rosalie sighed at Emmett's senior prom video, before demanding to know all about his date.

Bella was quiet as she watched me attend various past formals, each time with a different girl on my arm. I studied her face as she watched my teenaged self onscreen. She looked more sad than jealous, and I wondered why. I couldn't wait to pick her brain when we were alone.

When the videos ended and Mom turned to the photo albums, Emmett and I both groaned simultaneously.

"I don't think I can take any more of this," he announced, getting up from the couch and stretching.

"I'm with you. Let's go find and Dad and Jasper."

The girls called us amateurs as we gave them quick kisses and left the Chamber.

"Brutal," Emmett said with a shudder.

I nodded and we went in search of the men, who, along with Alice, were fiddling with my old PlayStation in the TV room. It was a relief to get lost in some fantasy NFL action and not have to think, or worry, about what lay ahead. Another beer and some downtime soon had me in a better frame of mind.

After a couple of games, I excused myself to use the bathroom. When I exited and headed down the hall, I ran into Rosalie.

"So you finally escaped the Chamber?" I joked.

"Well, after we were done with Emmett's photo albums and had moved on to yours, I thought I'd take a breather and let Bella enjoy getting a glimpse into your past."

Her words were pointed. I hoped I was just being paranoid as I looked at her stony expression. But my suspicions only mounted at her next words.

"Listen, can I have a word with you? Somewhere private."

I swallowed the lump of faint dread in my throat and said, "Sure. Why don't we take a walk?"

She followed me out one of the many sets of French doors that led to the deck. We headed down the lawn in silence, until we reached the curve of stone wall leading to the beach. I stopped and turned to face her when the house was no longer in view.

"Look. I know you have some kind of beef with me, so go head, let's hear it," I blurted, my patience at an end.

Rosalie's eyes widened in surprise. "I have no beef with you," she protested, looking mildly affronted. "I wanted to thank you, actually."

"For what?"

"For not telling Bella the extent of my suspicions."

"Save it," I told her tersely. "I don't need any thanks for trying to keep her happy."

"Yeah, well, you could have made things a lot worse for me by letting her know just how out of control my imagination got. Things are tense enough between us without her knowing that I thought she was going to mutiny and start her own label with you. So I appreciate your discretion. That's all I wanted to say," she finished, her face showing mild distaste at the crow she'd just eaten.

"I didn't tell her how bad your accusations were because I didn't want to hurt her, but also because that confession needs to come from you, not me. You're the one who needs to come clean if you really want to make amends with her."

Her guffaw echoed down the stone wall. "You're a fine one to talk about coming clean," she said derisively.

Every hair on my body stood on end. "What do you mean by that?" I could barely force the words through my clenched teeth.

Her snort was softer this time. "I mean, I know what it's like to have done things in the past that you're not proud of. Things you'd just as soon forget, or pretend they never happened." Her gaze clouded over and her voice became more subdued as she spoke. "Things that you're afraid might make it a lot harder for the people you love to love you back."

I stared at her, seething inwardly. My loud-mouthed brother had told his harpy girlfriend about my shortcomings before I'd even managed to confess them to Bella.

"Well, I guess that makes us even, then," I said, my voice brittle. "We each have something we can hold over the other's head now."

She shook her head and gave me a wan smile. "That's not what this is about, Edward. I didn't bring you out here to threaten you into making a deal. If anything, we should declare all bets off and show our hands. Bella deserves that."

"I won't argue with that," I agreed. "Go ahead. You first."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Thanks. You do realize she'll be a hell of a lot more upset with me than with you. My mistake was not trusting her integrity when she'd given me no reason to doubt it. You're just trying to protect her from an ugly incident that happened before you even knew each other. She won't hold that against you."

"Maybe not," I said, unconvinced. I studied her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was sincere. Her eyes had the weary look of someone trying very hard to forgive herself. I recognized that look. I saw it in the mirror every morning when I got out of bed.

"If I know Bella, her heart may be big enough to forgive us both," I told her. "Eventually."

Rosalie let out a mirthless chuckle. "I hope so," she said. "I don't want to lose her."

_Neither __do __I. _I left the words unspoken, but I was sure their sentiment was evident on my face.

"I wanted to talk to you about something else, too," Rose continued. "Have you given my offer any more thought?"

I looked at her blankly. "What offer?"

"I'd still like to see you as part of Jasper's band. I was hoping you'd take my words to heart and really think about it. You're a natural. You're just what they need." Her eyes narrowed up at me, shrewd and uncannily perceptive. "Maybe it's what you need, too."

My head began shaking back and forth in knee-jerk rejection. "I told you where I stand on that. Not interested."

"Even if the future of your sister's boyfriend is at stake?" she pressed. "The guy's got talent, and able-bodied musicians backing him up. What he doesn't have is that 'it' factor, for lack of a better word. He doesn't have what you have. That inexplicable quality that makes people sit up and take notice. Makes them stop what they're doing to listen."

I could feel every feature on my face harden into stone at her persistence. "That's absurd. I'm no different than any other guy with a guitar and a hard luck story. Besides, you haven't even seen me perform. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I got a good enough taste at that rehearsal," she argued. "And on the recording Bella made, you could have heard a pin drop at the end of that performance. You had those people spellbound. You can't buy that kind of power - it's a gift. You have it, and you're wasting it. Jasper would probably give his eye teeth for a fraction of your charisma, and you're in a position to share the wealth with him. But you're so fucking stubborn, or afraid, or whatever the hell your problem is, that you won't even consider doing it?"

I was about to form a rebuttal to her tirade when I heard the rustle of footsteps in the tall grass behind us. I turned to see Alice rushing around the curve of the stone wall, her dainty features set in a mask of fury. Nostrils flaring, lips curling into a grimace, she stopped short in front of Rosalie and glared up at her with formidable rage.

I inhaled sharply as I watched Alice's hazel eyes flash a poisonous green. I'd seen that look before. I knew what was coming.

"You. _Bitch_." I could practically feel the venom from where I stood as she spat out the words.

And then, my adorable baby sister balled her tiny hand into a fist and punched Rosalie Hale right in the nose.

A shockwave of astonishment barreled down my spine, but not because Alice had just assaulted our brother's girlfriend.

What rooted me to the spot in panic was the sight of Bella standing a few feet behind her, gaping at us with horror-stricken brown eyes. Amid Rosalie's shrieks over the blood pouring from her nose, and Alice's yelps that she had it coming, one thought prevailed in my mind.

How much had Bella heard?


	43. Omission

**The usual thanks and disclaimers apply. All of you reading this right now already made my day.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Monday, September 6**

I'd never seen anyone get punched in the face in real life until today.

I've never personally witnessed any barroom brawls or after-school showdowns, miraculously enough. I don't know how I managed to escape it until now.

But I'll never forget the sound of Alice's fist hitting Rosalie's face. The smack of skin on skin; the crack of bone meeting bone. It was brief but brutal, for a fountain of blood spewed from Rose's left nostril a moment later.

I wasn't sure what I felt in that moment. I'm generally against violence of any kind. But I can't deny that the tiniest thrill of exultation raced through me when Alice actually did what I'd only had the unfulfilled urge to do.

After Esme and I had left the so-called "Chamber of Horrors," I caught a glimpse of Alice striding purposefully down the lawn out back. When I realized that Edward and Rosalie were also missing, my curiosity got the better of me, and I followed Alice down to the retaining wall.

I only caught the tail end of Rosalie's words before Alice attacked her. She was once again belittling Jasper's abilities behind his back while complimenting Edward's. No wonder Alice lost her cool. My own ire had been growing as I stood behind her, listening carefully after she'd shushed me with a finger to her pursed lips when I approached. When she stomped around the corner to confront Rosalie, I followed close on her heels; but nothing could have prepared me for her swift retribution.

Rosalie's screams were ear-splitting as blood gushed down her lip. She appeared too stunned to even think about hitting Alice back. The latter was busy yelling things like "How dare you spew such bullshit about Jasper?" and "Where the hell do you get off trying to bully my brother like that?"

And through it all, Edward was staring at me.

Several emotions flitted across his features before they settled into one primary, easily recognizable expression: fear.

I'd seen it so many times in the past week that I was almost immune to it now. Almost ready to scream as loud as Rosalie and tell him, "Unless you're hiding a secret life as a mafia hit-man, or you drown sacks full of puppies for kicks, there is nothing you could do to make me stop loving you." And even then, I wasn't so sure about the mafia thing being a deal-breaker, since he'd be killing bad guys anyway.

After Alice enumerated Rosalie's numerous sins, she was riled up enough again to give her a shove. This time, Rosalie was angry enough to shove back. Edward finally broke out of his trance then and pulled the girls apart. He easily held Alice at bay, literally picking her up off the ground with one arm and dragging her away from Rosalie while she kicked and struggled against him.

"Pipe down, pipsqueak," he admonished calmly, the voice of reason among the fray.

"You broke my nose!" Rosalie sobbed, holding up her sleeve to stymie the stream of blood.

"I did not, you wuss. I didn't hit you that hard. Haven't you ever had a nosebleed before?" Alice snarled.

"Regardless, let's get her back to the house and have Dad look at it," Edward said, still sounding remarkably cool and collected. In fact, he sounded a lot like his father in that moment.

I finally managed to move from the spot where I'd been frozen in shock. I went to Rosalie and put an arm around her shoulder while she sniffled and blinked back tears. Edward motioned for us to follow, then turned back toward the house, still grasping Alice firmly in one arm to keep her ire in check. I steered Rosalie carefully behind them and we followed them up the gently sloping lawn.

Once inside the house, a whole new flurry of chaos broke out. Emmett flew into a rage at the sight of his girlfriend's bloody face. He demanded to know what had happened as he pulled Rosalie away from me and cradled her in one beefy arm. Esme gasped at the sight of all the blood, then ran to the kitchen sink to get fresh towels and ice. Carlisle corralled Emmett and Rose into the kitchen behind his wife, then sat Rose in a chair so he could examine her.

While he and Esme cleaned her up and Emmett soothed her, a confused Jasper approached the rest of us where we'd congregated in the kitchen doorway.

"What the hell happened?" he whispered.

"Nothing she didn't deserve," Alice hissed. She flexed her right hand a couple of times, then rubbed it gingerly with her left.

"You didn't," Jasper exclaimed. He looked to Edward, then me. We nodded in unison.

At first he appeared incredulous; then baffled. We shrugged, not knowing how to explain, but obviously not entirely disapproving of Alice's outburst.

Jasper could not hide the tiny grin that stole over his face. "My kind of woman," he murmured quietly into her ear, his lips touching her earlobe in a quick kiss.

She returned his tiny grin and whispered softly, "I'd defend you to the death."

"I didn't know I needed defending," he muttered, glancing warily in Rosalie's direction.

I realized then that their relationship was not that different from mine and Edward's. I couldn't imagine leaving him to go to school in another state, so I knew how hard the next few months would be for them.

Emmett looked relieved when his father ascertained that Rosalie's nose was not, in fact, broken. But when he discovered that Alice was her attacker, I feared for a moment that he might inflict the same injury, or worse, on his sister.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he bellowed. And then, to Rose, "You should file assault charges against her."

Rosalie shook her head wearily while Alice defended herself.

"If you had heard the things she was saying about Jasper, and Edward and Bella, you wouldn't blame me one bit," she insisted.

"Alice," Carlisle reprimanded her sharply. "We raised you better than that. That kind of behavior is unacceptable in this household."

"We weren't in the house, technically," she grumbled.

Esme gave Alice a look so severe that I began to quake in my sneakers a little on her behalf.

"You apologize to Rosalie immediately," she demanded. "I don't care what she said. Physical violence is never justified."

"It's okay," Rose said nasally through the towel-wrapped ice pack she held to her face. "She's right. I deserved it. I'm the one who owes you all an apology."

The room fell silent as everyone stared at her in surprise.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I'd like the chance to explain myself, if you'll let me." Her eyes swept the room anxiously, waiting for protests. Alice looked ready to interject, but Carlisle's eyes silenced her.

"Of course, dear," Esme encouraged, giving Rosalie a pat on the arm.

I'll start from the beginning so Dr. and Mrs. Cullen know what's going on. No more secrets," Rose said wearily.

"You don't need to do this right now, babe," Emmett said, covering her free hand on the kitchen table with his.

Esme added, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until you're up to speaking."

Rose shook her head slightly, trying to keep the gauze packing that Carlisle had stuffed up her nose in place. It would have been a comical sight if she weren't clearly still in pain.

"No, I want to get everything out in the open," she insisted. She looked carefully around the room at us, breathed deeply again and began.

"It started the week before last, when Alice invited me to sit in on one of Jasper's band rehearsals. I know you all wanted my honest opinion about them, but I sugar-coated it a bit." She turned to Jasper then. "The truth is, I think your band needs some work. You're talented and you have potential, but you're still not quite gelling. I feel like something is missing."

Jasper nodded slowly, but held his tongue.

"What I didn't tell you is that I think what's missing is Edward," she said bluntly. "The minute he sat in with you, everything started clicking on all cylinders. He's very gifted."

"That he is," Jasper agreed. Edward looked embarrassed.

"In fact, Edward is so gifted that I couldn't help but wonder why Bella hadn't mentioned it to me," Rose continued. "Her job is to find talent for our label, so it didn't make sense to me that she would be hiding someone with so much potential.

"My imagination started to run wild, and I did a few things I'm not at all proud of. I snooped in Bella's desk until I found some recordings of Edward. I jumped to all kinds of crazy conclusions when I heard them. I should have confronted Bella directly, but I ambushed Edward instead."

The room was still silent as a stone. I was a little shocked that Rosalie was owning up to everything so frankly.

"I was hoping that the element of surprise would get him to spill the beans," she explained. "I played the recordings for him and demanded to know if they were his. I wanted to know if the two of them were hiding his talent from me for a reason."

She stopped and leveled her gaze at me. Her eyes were fearful, but determined.

"What Edward didn't tell you is that I suspected the two of you were conspiring to go off on your own. I was afraid that he was trying to lure you away from Java Noise to start your own label, with him as your meal ticket."

I gaped at her in disbelief. "What?" I let out a small laugh because the idea was so ludicrous to me. It took me a moment before the true meaning of her words sank in. But when they did, I could feel indignation begin to boil under my skin.

"After all this time, how could you doubt my loyalty to the company? My loyalty to you?"

She grimaced, then took a deep breath. "Because I had my own Edward when I was your age," she said.

A low murmur traversed the room. I shook my head in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Java Noise isn't the first record company I've worked for," she informed us. "I moved to Los Angeles straight out of college and interned at a very big label whose name I'll leave out of this. I was a talent scout, just like you, only on a bigger, more competitive scale. I already had a couple of great acquisitions under my belt when I stumbled across an aspiring singer-songwriter a lot like Edward. Talented, charismatic, with that extra special something that can capture a crowd and hold it in the palm of his hand.

"I went to bat for him like I'd never done before, trying to get him signed to our label. But because he was so green, and there were so many like him trying to get their feet in the door, our company offered him a deal that would have benefited us more than him should he make it big. He and his management balked at signing the contract and made a counter-offer, trying to get a higher percentage of profits and royalties. The label refused to compromise, and cut him loose instead."

She let out a heavy sigh and readjusted her ice pack. "I was so invested in him that I was devastated. It didn't help matters that my relationship with him had developed beyond a professional one." She gave Emmett a guilty glance, then shot Edward and I a meaningful look.

"At the time, My Space and Youtube were still fairly new and growing like mad on the internet. It was suddenly possible for artists to self-promote on the cheap like they'd never been able to before. My 'Edward' convinced me that with my connections and his talent, we could make it on our own. We could start our own label together and reap all the rewards without any middle-men in the way."

Her brief smile was wry. "I was young and cocky, and head over heels for that guy. I didn't want to lose him, and he had me believing that we could really do it all ourselves. I was so naïve."

She paused, her melancholy gaze far away for a moment.

"So, I did it. I quit my job and put all of my energy into our new DIY venture. Long story short, we were in over our heads. I couldn't get the financing to record and promote him properly on my own, and the results from the new social media were underwhelming. Frustration and failure took their toll on our relationship, professional and personal. By the time all was said and done, I was alone. No job, no client, no boyfriend. I came crawling back home with my tail between my legs.

"I was sure I was going to quit the business then. I felt exhausted and defeated. But pretty soon I found myself hanging out in clubs again, watching the local talent. And I realized that I'll never stop getting a charge out of finding that diamond in the rough that you just know, in your gut, you can polish into something brilliant. So I started nosing around for A&R jobs in the area, and I was lucky enough that Sam and Mark at Java gave me a second chance."

She paused then, looking cautiously around the room at all of us. "I'm not trying to make excuses for the accusations I made, and the way I made them. I'm just explaining how my mind jumped to the worst-case scenario."

Edward was still frowning at her, his brow creased in accusation. "So basically you're saying that you measured Bella by your own admittedly short yardstick."

Rosalie bristled slightly, but then nodded. "Yes. It was unfair, to both of you. I'm sorry for accusing you the way I did, Edward. I was completely out of line."

He nodded almost imperceptibly, but didn't answer her.

She turned her guilty gaze toward me. "Bella, I am truly sorry for not telling you everything, and for not trusting you. You have a much more level head on your shoulders than I did at your age, so I should have known better. I just hope you can give me the opportunity to try to regain your trust."

I could still feel resentment percolating under the surface, despite her confession and apology. "I don't like being played for a fool," I said bitterly.

Her face fell. "I understand."

"I don't like holding grudges, either," I told her. "But you have to give me some time."

She nodded. "Of course," she said quietly.

Emmett gave Rosalie's hand a squeeze. His expression was sympathetic rather than affronted. Apparently she had already revealed everything to him, but had kept the rest of us in the dark. I wasn't sure how I would be able to forgive her for assuming the worst about me, even now that I had a better understanding of how she arrived at her conclusions. But the fact that she and both Cullen brothers had kept the full truth from me hurt worse than Rosalie's suspicions themselves. I wondered why they all thought I was some fragile flower who needed to be protected. If anything, I'd rather get hit with the whole ugly truth at once so that I know what I'm dealing with.

I looked at Edward, wondering why he couldn't seem to grasp that. Wondering why he thought it was better to shelter me than level with me.

"Don't you have something to say to Jasper?" Alice suddenly piped up. Her nostrils flared in indignation as she glared at Rosalie.

Rose shot Jasper a sheepish glance. "I'm sorry if I've judged you harshly. I shouldn't write you off based on one rehearsal. You do have moments of brilliance on the guitar. You were pretty rockin' at the Black and Red Ball." She gave him a hesitant smile then, which he returned.

"It's fine. Alice is a bit over-protective when it comes to apparent slights. I'm a little thicker-skinned than she gives me credit for being," Jasper said evenly.

"Sounds familiar," I mumbled under my breath. I felt Edward's eyes on me, but I did not lift my own to meet them.

"I think there's someone else here tonight who needs to make an apology," Carlisle said with a warning tone. He gave his daughter a stern look. "Alice?" he prompted.

Alice let out an aggravated sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry I hit you," she mumbled to Rosalie. "It was bad enough when I heard the way you lied to Bella and tricked my brother. But when you insulted my man, that was it. I kind of lost it."

Rose winced as she flipped the ice pack over and reapplied it to the side of her nose. "I get it. I probably would have done the same." She gave Emmett a warm, protective look. Then she shifted her attention to Carlisle and Esme.

"I apologize for ruining your Labor Day party. I would have chosen a different time, a different way to deal with my mistakes if I could have. But I'm glad I told the truth." She gave Alice a bitter smile. "Maybe I should thank you for forcing it out of me."

Alice shrugged, her scowl subsiding a bit. "It's always better to get that stuff out in the open instead of letting it fester into something worse," she said. I didn't miss the quick glance she gave Edward.

"I know," Rosalie agreed quietly. "I just felt so foolish and guilty for assuming the worst that my first instinct was to try to make it go away somehow. I didn't want to hurt Bella any worse than I already had, and neither did Edward." She turned to me. "We were probably wrong to try to spare you, and I'm sorry. I won't pretend that I wasn't trying to protect myself, too. I was afraid you'd never be able to forgive me."

She paused, her expression cautiously hopeful. I couldn't quite bring myself to let her off the hook just yet.

"I appreciate your honesty," I said at last. "If you had just explained all of this from the very beginning, I might have understood your motivations better. And I might have been able to forgive a little more quickly."

She nodded. "I don't know why some lessons have to be learned the hard way."

"That's just life," Esme said, reaching out and giving Rosalie a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm glad you were brave enough to tell us your story. If you mean as much to Emmett as I think you do, then I consider you a part of this family. And in this family, we don't expect perfection. Just honesty. I think you'll find that when you have the truth on your side, you can deal with just about anything else that comes at you."

Rosalie's smile was grateful. "You're very kind, Mrs. Cullen. Kinder than I deserve."

"Esme," she replied warmly. "Call me Esme."

With those words, I knew that Rosalie was officially a part of the Cullen family, and I'd better figure out a way to get along with her. Never mind the fact that at that moment, I couldn't even fathom working with her every day, let alone counting her among my closest friends.

Carlisle got up from the table and disappeared for a bit, then returned with a packet of pill samples. He filled a glass of water for Rosalie and handed her the packet.

"These will help with any pain and swelling you might have," he said. "And I'd like you to make an appointment to visit my office this week so I can follow up and make sure you're okay. It's the least I can do after the way my daughter treated you."

He gave Alice a look so disappointed and disapproving that it would make the Pope feel unworthy. I began to understand why Edward had often referred to his father as the Guilt Trip Master.

As Rosalie took one of the prescription pain pills, Carlisle added, "They'll probably also make you sleepy, so take care if you're driving anywhere."

"I'll be doing the driving tonight," Emmett asserted, stroking Rosalie's hair.

"I should probably be going soon, anyway," she said. "I've imposed on everyone enough here today."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, dear," Esme offered.

"Thank you, but we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Rose answered, giving me a tentative smile. "Holidays always make the rest of the work week busier than usual."

I nodded in agreement. I knew that we would have plenty to keep us occupied at Java for the next few days. I hate that I'm facing the prospect of work with a faint feeling of dread rather than enthusiasm like I usually do. I wonder if that will ever change. I hope so. I don't want Rosalie's mistrust to permanently taint my attitude toward the job I've always loved.

Esme began to put together care packages of leftover food for us to take home, and I quickly offered to help. She refused, of course, and made Alice do it instead. I couldn't help but think how well you and Esme would have gotten along, Mom. I'm having a harder time imagining rough-around-the-edges Charlie hitting it off with genteel and refined Carlisle, though. And yet, I know it's going to happen one of these days. Even after today's disappointments, I know Edward is the one. I can't imagine my life without him anymore.

We said our good-byes with hugs, just as we had said our hellos. When Alice gripped me in a quick embrace, she whispered, "I'm not sorry I hit her. I still feel a lot worse for you."

I chuckled a little and told her "thanks." She winked and said she'd call me soon. I realized again how much I was going to miss her myself while she was away.

The trip to the dock was eerily silent. Soon after we left the Cullen property, Rosalie fell asleep. She didn't stir when Emmett turned on the radio and let it drone softly in the background.

I gazed out the window, unable to appreciate the beauty of the passing landscape the way I had earlier. After a few miles, I felt the warmth of Edward's hand on mine, making me turn to him. His eyes were plagued with doubt and worry. I turned my hand, palm up, so that he could lace his fingers through mine. He held my hand, and my gaze, until it burned through me and I had to look away. He lifted my hand to his mouth then, and pressed his warm lips upon it.

_Forgive me_.

I didn't need to hear the words. I saw the entreaty in his eyes.

_I'll always forgive you. _

I wondered if he was as astute at reading my unspoken language. If he was, he seemed to question it once again.

I sighed; my eyes fell. Why did no one trust in me?

The ferry ride home was a little better, probably because Edward and I found a secluded place to sit, away from Rosalie and Emmett. Even though the air was getting cooler as hazy sun set behind its cloud cover, I preferred the fresh breeze of the upper deck to the inside cabins. We sat side by side, looking out over the water. Well, I was looking at the water. I could feel Edward looking at me.

"I'm sorry I wasn't completely honest with you," he said softly after a long moment.

I returned his gaze, even though the pain in his eyes cut me. "I know you are."

"I just didn't want to hurt you like that. I never want to be the one to hurt you."

"Rosalie is the one who did that by not trusting me. You didn't hurt me until you added to what she did by not trusting me to handle it. Do you understand that?"

His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before opening them. "Yes."

"Even Emmett knew everything before I did. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

His eyes finally wavered, then lost the battle with mine. "I'm sorry," he reiterated. I could barely hear his hoarse reply over the wind and waves that helped push the ferry eastward.

"Edward, I don't want you to feel guilty for trying to protect me. I love that that's your first instinct. But I'd still rather you have enough confidence in me to be honest with me and treat me like your equal; your best friend. More than your best friend."

He twisted his body toward mine on the bench and grabbed both of my hands in his. "You are all of those things to me. I don't want you to ever doubt that." He paused, glancing down at our hands, hit thumbs smoothing the outline of mine. "I'm not used to being that open with anyone. Confiding everything. Holding nothing back. I've been more open with you than with anyone else - let you see parts of me that I never show anyone. You're in there so deep . . ."

He trailed off, and his eyes swallowed mine. I felt myself drowning again, giving myself over to his undertow. I resisted; kept my head above the surface.

"But it's still not all of you, is it?"

The motion of Edward's thumbs stopped cold. His face hardened around the edges. The hypnotic swirl of his eyes stilled.

The breath left my body in a disappointed sigh. I squeezed his hands tightly. "I know how hard it is to give everything. It's scary. But I'm greedy. I want all of you. Every bit. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly. Whatever it is, I can take it. I will take it."

He stared at me in something like disbelief. I wondered how he could doubt my love for him after all we'd been through together. Even though it had only been a short time, it felt like eternity somehow. Like he was the destiny I didn't know was mine until I found him.

"I wish I knew why," he murmured.

I huffed a small laugh. "You might as well ask why the sky is blue. Or gray, as the case may be," I added with a wry grin at the clouds. "It just is. I love you."

I didn't know what else to say. It was all that was necessary, as far as I was concerned.

"There aren't enough words to express what I feel for you," he replied. His eyes were as troubled as the sky above. And then, suddenly, his smile broke through the clouds. "But 'I love you, too' is a good start."

I smiled back. "It's a very good start."

I extricated one hand from his so I could reach up to touch his face. "I loved seeing all those pictures and videos of you at your Mom's," I told him. "I loved seeing how you became the man you are today."

He raised a dubious eyebrow. "Well, if you wanted the warts-and-all version, you certainly got a good dose of that." His grin faded. "Why did you look so sad when we got to the photos of all those silly high school and college formals I went to? Were my tuxes that bad?"

I couldn't seem to laugh at his joke. "Because your eyes are so different now," I told him. "You were completely carefree then. It wasn't that long ago, but you looked so much younger. So . . . I don't know; full of promise? Or confidence, maybe? Your face was just so smooth and untroubled. You still look that way when you're sleeping."

I stroked his face now; and of course, it was lined with care, maybe even regret, as he gazed at me.

"I wish I had met you then," he said. "I might still that look that way. While I'm awake," he added with a sardonic laugh.

I smiled wistfully. "You wouldn't have glanced at me sideways then. I wasn't your type."

"Then I was a fool."

I shook my head. "Things happen the way they're supposed to happen. There's a reason we found each other when we did. You saved me." _Let me save you, _I wanted to add.

"That may be a bit generous. I think you were doing all right on your own."

"But you made me better than all right. You made me so much more."

"It's the least I could do." He looked like he wanted to say more, but his words were cut off by the blast of the ferry's horn, announcing our impending arrival at the Washington Street terminal.

"We'd better find our ride," Edward said, rising from the bench, still holding my hand. I stood up and stretched a little, and we went off in search of Emmett and Rosalie.

We found them inside, huddled at a small table, drinking iced tea. I gasped when I saw Rose. Her nose and cheek were swollen, and a faint purple bruise was beginning to bloom under her left eye.

"I must be a pretty sight," she grimaced at my reaction.

"Alice went too far. She shouldn't have hit you," Edward said reproachfully.

"That's the understatement of the year," Emmett growled. "There's no excuse for her behavior. We're not little kids anymore, duking it out on the playground."

Rose waved her hand at him, as if to calm him down. "I had it coming. I'll live. I've been through worse."

"You should have slugged her back," Edward said. "You could have gotten in a good punch before I broke it up."

Rosalie let out a snort. "Somehow I don't think it would have helped matters. I can take my lumps. I'm just glad you two didn't take a shot at me. You would have been completely justified."

I shook my head at her. "Not my style."

She smiled up at me. "I know. I should have remembered that all along."

I got her meaning and tried to return her smile, but it still felt forced.

Emmett helped Rosalie up and kept a protective arm around her as we prepared to leave the ferry. After docking and retrieving the Range Rover, Emmett drove us back to Edward's place, where I'd stayed the night before. The conversation was mostly small talk revolving around the good parts of our day at the Cullen home, and what the work week held for each of us. By the time we got to the loft, the sun had set and I was beginning to feel wiped out by the events of the day.

As Edward and I silently listened to the service elevator's gears haul us to the top floor, I mustered the courage to make a request.

"Is it all right if I spend the night at my place? I'm really tired, and I have some things I need to take care of." At the sight of his disappointed face, I quickly added, "Boring things like ironing clothes for work and paying bills. You know, the stuff it's easy to forget about when I'm with you."

His half-smile was wan. "Sure. I should probably do some of that myself."

I let out a guffaw. "Do you even own an iron?"

"I think so, somewhere," he said, giving me my favorite crooked grin. "Maybe I should see if I can excavate it from my closet."

Once inside the apartment, he watched silently as I gathered my things from the bathroom and bedroom and packed them in my overnight bag.

"I should have driven my truck here," I said sheepishly as we headed for the front door. "I'm sorry you have to drive me home."

He frowned at me, looking mildly offended. "I don't mind driving you home."

The silence felt heavy as we made the trip from SoDo to my duplex on the west side. I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened after Rosalie left the "Chamber of Horrors," and Esme and I sat alone, looking at Edward's photo album. I was lapping him up with a spoon, drinking in the adorable tow-headed childhood Edward; the skinny, awkward adolescent version; the young, increasingly handsome teenager; and the rather wild-looking college incarnation.

Smattered throughout his pictorial history were girls. Little girls, stealing kisses. Pre-teen girls, blushing and holding his hand. High school girls, fresh-faced and clearly smitten. College girls, some apparently drunk, most eager-looking.

And then I saw her.

There was only one picture, at the bottom of the last page in the album. It was taken on the deck of the Cullen house; I recognized the landscape in the background. Edward and a pretty strawberry blonde stood arm in arm, smiling. Her grin was huge and confident; his was slightly strained. His expression was different in the picture with this girl than in any of the others. There was tension in his posture as his hand gripped her shoulder tightly.

The blonde was pale and slightly freckled, with one of those effortlessly beautiful faces that show up in skin care commercials. But there was something a little "off" in her gaze. It was too intense; too exuberant. She was just . . . too much. I couldn't put my finger on it. I was strangely disturbed at the sight of her, and yet, I felt an odd sadness as well, which startled me. I finally realized that the emotion she evoked in me was pity. But why should such a lovely girl, with Edward at her side, warrant my pity?

Esme made a low sound of surprise when she saw the photo I was staring at. She quickly closed the back cover, forced a smile and said, "Well, I'm sure Edward will be furious with me for showing you all of these, especially the bathtub pictures."

"He'll get over it," I said with a smile. "I'm so glad you did. I enjoyed every minute of it immensely."

Her smile turned genuine then. "You're good for him, Bella. I don't know if you see that, but I can assure you, you bring out the best in him. I'm so glad he met you."

"That works both ways, Esme," I replied. She gave me a hug, and I thought of you, Mom. It was just the kind of hug you would have given me.

I glanced over at Edward now, frowning purposefully at the road ahead. We were almost at my place. I deliberated for a moment, and then tried prying at the lid on the can of proverbial worms.

"I saw a picture of Tanya today."

I watched him like a hawk, unsurprised at his immediate stiffening, his intake of breath.

"She was very pretty."

He exhaled loudly; I could see his visible effort to calm himself. "Yes, she was."

The fact that he didn't correct me when I spoke of her in the past tense did not escape me. His reply was merely confirmation of what I already knew; what I had known subconsciously for some time.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

His face tensed once more, but in a different way this time. It was the look of someone holding back emotions; keeping a torrent dammed and shored away. I knew all too well how that felt.

"Yes," he said at last, his voice coarse with effort.

I waited, but I knew there would be no more explanation. Not yet. And though my patience was being tested to its very limit, I remembered what it had taken for my own dam to burst. I tried to imagine how I would have felt if Edward had pushed the issue and nagged me, trying to make me to relive a horror I'd just as soon forget. I probably would have resented him for it and pushed him away.

And so, as I gazed sadly at Edward's struggling form, I said simply, "I'm sorry."

He said nothing; just shook his head wearily. He probably wanted to tell me not to be sorry; that he didn't want my pity. But he looked tired. As tired as I felt right now.

When he pulled up to the house, he quickly got out of the Volvo and grabbed my overnight bag out of the back seat. He carried it as he escorted me up the stairs to the landing, ever the gentleman.

"Thanks," I said softly as I took the bag from him. "I actually had a good time, despite what happened. I'm glad you took me out to your family's house. That means a lot to me."

His gentle hand cradled my face. "You mean everything to me," he said, his voice still raw. "Everything."

I nodded and reached up to kiss him. His lips were urgent against mine, and I could feel our kiss good-night quickly escalate to something more. It was always that way with him, and even as I relished our passion, I pulled back from it this time.

"I love you," I said in reassurance to the uncertainty in his eyes.

I turned to open the door, but stopped when I heard his velvet voice, low and purposeful.

"I will give you everything, Bella. I promise you that."

I turned back long enough to see the steely determination in his eyes. It made me sad to see him work so hard, when he could just let go and be free at last.

"I know," I replied.

He began to back down the stairs, still staring up at me. It took every ounce of strength I had to turn away and lift my leaden feet through the doorway. I looked back and watched through the door as he disappeared into the dark, the glow of the Volvo's taillights the last thing I saw as they streaked down the street.

I closed the door behind me and sagged against it, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

"Wow. Rough day?" Angela remarked from the sofa. I laughed a little when I saw that she had our bills spread out on the coffee table before her and her laptop at the ready.

"Parts of it," I answered. I left my bag by the door and collapsed on the couch next to my roommate. I regaled her with the whole story, while she made the appropriate responses of indignation where necessary.

"Unbelievable," she said at the conclusion of my tale. "How are you gonna work with that woman every day?" she asked in reference to Rosalie.

I shook my head. "No idea. I'd like to be a big enough person to forgive, but I don't know if I can forget it."

"I don't know if I could, either," she said. "Oh, by the way, your dad called. He forgot you were spending the day out on Bainbridge Island. I told him to try your cell, but he just said for you to call him when you got back."

"Really? Huh. His ears must have been burning. I was just telling Edward today that I was missing him."

I assured Angela I'd help her with the bills in a minute, then dug my cell out of my purse, went to my room and called Charlie.

"Hey, Bells," he exclaimed when he picked up the phone. "How was your day with the rich folks?"

I managed a laugh. "It was good, for the most part. There were a few Labor Day fireworks, though."

"Little late in the year for those, isn't it?" he asked. His tone told me he got my meaning, but wasn't going to pry.

"Definitely. Don't worry, I'll tell you the whole story soon."

"That new boyfriend of yours is treating you right, isn't he?" he grumbled.

"Yes, Dad. Edward treats me very well. Too well, sometimes," I answered cryptically.

"Huh. So when am I gonna get to meet this kid? You gonna bring him up north for a visit sometime?"

"Maybe," I hedged, still trying in vain to picture my dad and Edward in the same room together. "I have actually been thinking about coming up for a visit, if you're not too busy."

"I'm never too busy for my little girl," he said, in that gruff-yet-tender way of his. "I got you a birthday present. It'd be great if you could come collect it in person."

"Dad, you didn't have to do that," I protested feebly.

"Of course I did. It's nothing big; just something I thought you'd like to have."

"Sounds nice, thanks." I wondered if he could hear the smile in my voice. "I'm going sailing with Edward next weekend, but maybe I can come up to Forks after that. I have the feeling I might want to take a little vacation time from work if I can swing it."

"I know that's a hard time for you, Bells. It is for me, too." Dad's sigh was sympathetic. He assumed I was talking only about the anniversary of the accident. "Maybe it would be a good thing for both of us if you could make it up here for a few days."

"Yeah, I think so, too," I agreed. "I'll see if I can get some time off from work and make it happen."

After Dad and I said our good-byes, I realized I felt a sense of relief. A little sabbatical in the sleepy town of Forks might be just what I need. I want a break from Rosalie's suspicious mind, and Jake's misplaced jealousy.

I refuse to listen to the tiny voice in my head suggesting that, as much as I'll miss him, maybe I need a break from Edward's insecurity, too.


	44. Blindside

**Disclaimer: I know nothing about sailing. Google is my friend, I hope. To any enthusiasts reading this, I'm sorry if I've mangled or misued the terminology.**

**Bless you, all you great readers and reviewers. I'm so very humbled that you take the time to read my words.**

* * *

_**Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook**_

**Saturday, September 11**

I remembered to bring my camera with me today.

Too many times, I've taken Bella somewhere with breath-taking scenery, and then spent my time trying to memorize the way the sun plays off the highlights in her hair, or the way her cheeks flush in the breeze. Today I captured it all: the wind in her hair; the reflection of the water in her eyes; the glint of her teeth, as white as the sails behind her, when she laughed. The way she pulled my hooded sweatshirt close around her shoulders when the sun went under the clouds, then unzipped it when the warm rays reappeared. The way she rolled her eyes at me when I wouldn't put the camera away, but then pressed her face to mine when I held the camera out in front of us to take our self-portrait.

But it was too late for me to capture the look of complete happiness she used to give me. I had already tarnished that with my duplicity. The minute she had discovered my lie of omission about Rosalie on Monday, I'd felt the tide turn. And now, as we drifted along the water, I tried to ignore the fact that she was drifting away from me.

The disappointment in her eyes over Rosalie's confession had cut me to the bone. My withholding the truth had hurt her just as much as the truth itself. You'd think that mistake would have been impetus enough to keep me from making another one, wouldn't you? But perversely, it only cemented my fear in place, like concrete shoes dragging me under instead of letting me move forward.

Bella gave me several opportunities to tell her about you. She figured out that you're gone. She just didn't know how it happened. And, of course, that was the hardest thing for me to talk about. The thing I'd been beating back like a lion-tamer holds a beast at bay with a flimsy chair and a whip. I knew all along that the beast would win. And yet I continued the useless fight, when Bella only wanted me to give in.

I don't know how I managed to skirt the issue all week. After Monday, there really was no point in the façade anymore. And yet she allowed me to dance around the elephant in the room for days. She did the dance with me, indulging my cowardice. Maybe the truth scared her. Maybe through my subterfuge, I'd only encouraged her to conjure up scenarios about you that were worse than what actually happened, though I doubt that's possible. Or maybe her own past trauma had made her far more forgiving and patient with me than I deserved.

Either way, she let the beast lie, never giving it more than the gentlest of prods. Those were easily tamed, and she went along with my circus act, smiling fearlessly as I pretended that the beast was incapable of devouring us both.

But all of that ended today.

We started our day at the Seattle Tennis Club early so I could give Bella a quick tour before we met Mom's sailing friend, Tom Rollins, at the boathouse. She viewed most of the club's amenities with wide-eyed wonder, occasionally commenting on how beautiful the ballroom and dining rooms were. I loved seeing the places I'd grown up in through her eyes. She always gave me a new appreciation for the things I'd taken for granted.

After leaving a change of clothes in the club locker rooms, we headed down to the boathouse to meet our captain. A sturdy man in his sixties with silver hair and a beard to match, Tom Rollins had the kind of ruddy, weathered face that bore testimony to his love of the outdoors. His smile was warm and genuine, and it creased his face into deep, amiable grooves when he flashed it at us in welcome.

After I made the necessary introductions, he wasted no time in leading us to his beautiful fifty-foot sloop, Nessie, docked in the harbor. The yacht had a motor, as many modern vessels do, but once we were out on the open water, he killed the engine and hoisted the sails.

He gave Bella and I a few basic pointers as he put us to work, helping to ease out the mainsail and set the boom correctly over the transom. He showed us a few types of knots to use on the ropes, and gave us a basic understanding of things like close-haul and broad reach; tacking and jibing; beating and running. Bella seemed fascinated, and was eager to help trim the sails as we maneuvered up the coast. Before we knew it, the sun was high overhead, warm and dazzling under its canopy of vivid blue.

The city coastline was far behind us when our captain suggested we slow our pace and take a break for lunch. We were glad for calm waters as we ate the tuna sandwiches that Tom had thoughtfully packed for us. He barely took time to eat himself, instead regaling us with stories about journeys he'd made during weather much less favorable than this. He even remembered taking my mom and dad out once when they were first dating.

"You're a lot like your father, you know," he commented to me with a grin.

"Really?" My tone was skeptical. "How so?"

"You've got the same calm, capable air about you, but there's a fire in there, too. You've got that determined look in your eye." He let out a chortle. "You look at Bella, here, the same way your dad always looked at your mom."

"How was that?" Bella asked eagerly.

A sage smile split Tom's grizzled beard and mustache. "Like he knew a good thing when he saw it, and wasn't about to squander the opportunity to claim it for his own."

He laughed at my sheepish grin while Bella elbowed me playfully.

"You've got your mother's looks, though," Tom added to me. "She's still a beauty. The bloom hasn't faded on that rose yet."

"No, it hasn't," I replied. Bella murmured in agreement.

"Okay, hang on to your seats, and your lunches. I'm about to turn ol' Nessie around and take her back to the harbor. You two want to give me a hand?"

"Sure," Bella and I replied in unison, jumping up to help him with the sails. He instructed us how to jibe, a quick but slightly more dangerous way to turn the boat around since we'd be bringing the stern around into the eye of the wind. Tom put me in charge of centering and letting out the mainsail while he replaced the jib sheet. He talked me through the steps, but I was still surprised at how quickly the boom swung over the middle of the boat despite my best efforts to control it.

"Whoa!" Bella exclaimed, ducking down in her seat as I wrestled with the sail. After letting out the jib, Tom helped me trim the mainsail until we were at beam reach. As soon as the boat was at broad reach with the wind coming from the aft starboard side, I left him in the stern and sat next to Bella in the middle of the craft.

"You didn't think I'd knock you overboard, did you?" I grinned.

"Of course not. Not intentionally, anyway," she kidded. Suddenly her laughter subsided and a strange look came over her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Nothing. I guess I just had a déjà vu," she answered with a frown. Then, her eyebrows suddenly lifted in recollection. "No, I remember what it was. I had a dream about this! I dreamt that you took me sailing. It was weeks ago, before you were anything more than my therapist."

"Really?" I was surprised that she'd had a dream that turned out to be more of a premonition.

"Yeah. We were sailing, and it was a beautiful day like this one. But then it turned stormy all of a sudden, and the boat began to get tossed around on the waves."

"Typical for the Sound," I interjected.

"Right," she agreed. "You were actually steering the boat in my dream. When you turned it around to head back to the shore, I lost my balance and fell in the water. I was flailing around with the rain hitting me in the face, and you threw me a life preserver so you could pull me back in. I couldn't seem to hang on to it, though, and the next thing I knew, you jumped in to save me. I saw you swimming toward me, and suddenly I knew everything would be okay."

"So . . . was it?" I asked. I loved that she thought of me as her lifeline, before we were even involved. I wondered if her dream would have turned out the same if it had happened this past week instead.

"I don't know - I assume so. I woke up then." She suddenly smiled. "The thing that I remembered most about it was that it was the first time I ever heard you call me 'Bella.'"

I smiled faintly at my ridiculous attempts to keep her at arm's length then, when she'd already captured my soul within the first two days of our meeting.

Her eyes were focused on the memory of the dream as she continued. "Right before you jumped in the water, you yelled, 'Hang on, Bella. I won't lose you, too.'"

My heart skipped a beat, maybe two, as I stared at her. How could she have known about you then? She couldn't have. She didn't. Her dream had been prophetic in ways that now sent a chill down my spine despite the balmy weather.

The realization hit Bella a moment later, for her eyes grew round with fearful comprehension.

"Edward," she gasped softly, putting her hand on my arm and searching my eyes for confirmation. "Is that how Tanya died? Did she drown?"

I stared at her pensive face and fought the urge to laugh at the unintentional irony of her question. She had no way of knowing that she had hit the nail squarely on the head while still completely missing the mark.

I took the easy way out once again. I would say it's an art form, but there's no talent in taking the path of least resistance.

I nodded quietly. "She did, actually."

Her face twisted into a mixture of sorrow and pity that I could scarcely bear. She gave my arm a sympathetic squeeze, then added cautiously, "Were you with her?"

I shook my head. "No, I wasn't. But not a day goes by that I don't wish I had been able to save her somehow."

There. That, at least, was a true statement. But my conscience felt even more burdened than before.

She took my hands in hers and explored them, rubbing my fingers with hers; a soothing gesture, I supposed.

"I know how hard it is for you to talk about what happened," she said, still staring at my knuckles, her thumbs softly stroking the hairs that sprouted there. "You must have really loved her."

The uncertainty in her voice nearly killed me. I couldn't believe I was hearing it. I thought she was past her insecurities now; I thought I had systematically destroyed each one of them. I withdrew my hands from hers and took possession of her face instead, willing her to look up at me.

"How can you not understand how I feel about you?" I questioned her, trying to quell my frustration. "I won't say I never loved her. I did, at the beginning. But it was so different from what I have with you that it doesn't compare in any way, shape or form. I've told you that from the start. Even alive and breathing, she wouldn't be any competition for you. So trust me, her ghost is even less."

I leaned in and kissed her solemnly, reverently. I looked deeply into her eyes and tried to make her understand that the past couldn't touch what I felt for her in the present.

"I have never loved anyone the way I love you. I will never love anyone the way I love you. If you don't know anything else about me, then please tell me you at least know that."

"I know you believe that," she whispered. Her doubt was maddening to me.

"Of course I believe it, and so should you. It's an uncontestable fact." I leaned back and studied her, trying to figure out where this was coming from. Did she actually think that my reluctance to discuss you was because I had loved you more than I do her? The idea had never even occurred to me, but apparently it had to her. She didn't seem to realize how absurd it was.

I stroked the side of her face with one hand; let my fingers thread through her wind-whipped hair.

"You're the one," I said simply, emphatically. "The only one."

I couldn't tell if her eyes watered at my declaration, or were merely stung by the wind. But she put her hand over mine on her face, brought my palm to her lips and kissed it. I drew her close to me and held her most of the way back to Seattle, leaving her side only to help Tom tack when necessary.

Bella and I hovered somewhere between exhilaration and exhaustion by the time we were on dry land again. We thanked our captain profusely for the trip, the lessons and the lunch. As we said our good-byes, Tom leaned in and spoke to me confidentially while Bella walked ahead of me down the dock.

"It was a pleasure seeing you and your girlfriend enjoying each other's company like that. Took me right back to the days when your old man was courting your mother, no lie. I gotta hand it to you - the Cullen men sure do know how to pick 'em."

When Bella turned and gave me an quizzical look, Tom gave her a wink, then chuckled and slapped me on the back.

"What was that about?" she asked when I caught up with her.

"Nothing. Tom's a wise man, that's all."

Bella was still feeling her sea legs a bit, and we walked it off with a stroll around the club grounds before resting on a park bench looking out over the water. She soon dozed off, her head lolling against my shoulder as her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. I stroked her hair and gazed down at her placid face: forehead smooth, mouth relaxed, eyelashes casting a fringed shadow on her flushed cheeks. I began to worry that she had gotten a bit sunburned, so I reluctantly roused her and suggested we go inside and get ready for dinner.

We parted ways to use the men's and women's facilities. I showered and dried my hair quickly, but didn't bother to shave. Even though Bella often complained about my scratchy five o-clock shadow, I knew she secretly loved it. There were many things she never said aloud that I discerned anyway, by the look in her eyes, the crook of her smile, or that delectable blush. In so many ways, I felt like I knew her as well as I knew myself. Yet in others, she was still a mystery to me.

I donned the suit I'd brought with me but ditched the tie. Though the club's main restaurant was formal, I still balked at wearing a tie in a sports facility. Maybe that was the rebel in me, always wanting to stray a little left of center. That was certainly the part of me that was drawn to you.

I waited in an elegant wingback chair nearby the ladies' locker room, knowing it wouldn't take Bella that long to get ready. She wasn't a fussy girl, but was still effortlessly elegant when she wanted to be. That was one of the things I loved most about her. I wondered if she could read my unspoken language as well as I could hers. I always thought she could until this week, when I saw that doubt in her eyes surface more and more. Maybe my lie of omission about Rosalie had done more damage than I ever could have predicted.

I could feel my face still etched with worry when a familiar pair of long, ivory legs strolled into view of my downcast eyes. A smile defeated my frown at the sight of them. I let my gaze linger on those lovely limbs in their black pumps before climbing upward, over the simple lines of her short red dress to the matching scarlet of her lips.

"Wow," I said dumbly, appreciatively, as I gazed up at her perfection. "You look incredible." I quickly rose to my feet for a different vantage point, one that allowed me to peer lewdly down the crossover neckline of her dress.

She gave me the usual outwardly exasperated, secretly pleased look. "So predictable," she chided.

"The day I stop trying to look down your dress will be the day I die," I told her, tilting her face up to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"And mine will be the day I stop enjoying it."

I grinned and offered her my arm. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way, Mr. Cullen," she replied, clasping my elbow. "You look ridiculously handsome, by the way," she added as I escorted her to the dining area.

"I will take that as a compliment, coming from the most beautiful woman here," I told her as we entered the restaurant.

She tried to act blasé, but her eyes were still wide at the old-school elegance of the place, all dark wood, linen, crystal, tea roses and candlelight. The hostess seated us near the terrace overlooking the water, and Bella sighed at the view of it beyond the lushly manicured gardens.

"This place is amazing," she said with a shake of her head after we were seated. "This whole day has been amazing. Thank you for the best birthday present ever."

"Oh, this isn't your birthday present," I informed her. "But I'm glad you're having a good time."

"Edward," she admonished. "This is more than enough. You didn't have to buy me anything else."

"I didn't," I said with a mischievous grin.

Her face was alight with anticipation. "Now you've really got me curious. Surprises make me nervous."

My grin broadened. "Don't worry. It's definitely something you'll like."

"Hmm. I don't doubt that," she said with the quirk of one brow.

We perused the menus; I ordered a bottle of one of their best white wines and some hors d'oeuvres while Bella deliberated over the entrees. She finally chose salmon while I went with rockfish, and we both picked crab bisque for our first course.

When the waiter returned with our wine, I could barely stop staring at Bella long enough to approve the sample he poured me. I was mesmerized by the flicker of the candlelight in her dark eyes. The warm heat of them intoxicated me more than the wine ever could.

The waiter poured us each a glass before taking his leave. I raised mine, beckoning her to do the same.

"What shall we toast to?" I asked, deferring to her.

"To us, of course," she answered immediately. "And to more days like this."

"To us," I echoed, touching my glass to hers. We watched each other sip the wine, enticed by the sensuality of each other's mouths. I knew that the physical aspect of our relationship would never be lacking. I had never felt so bound to anyone the way I am to her . . . so utterly attuned to her needs and wants. And certainly no one had ever held my own in the palm of her hand the way she does.

I wanted that to be enough; but of course, it wasn't. The reason our physical connection was so strong was because it was rooted in the emotional and spiritual. And until I could share those as fully with her as I had shared my body, I knew we would never move forward.

Our hors d'oeuvres soon arrived, and we noshed on artichoke-dill crostini as we waited for our soup. Bella's cheeks grew pinker with every sip of chenin blanc that she took. I grinned and filled her glass again.

"Do you like the wine?" I asked her.

"I do, as a matter of fact," she said with a small giggle. "Almost as well as I like the company."

"How you do flatter me, Miss Swan." I took a sip from my own glass and savored the warmth that spread through my belly after the crisp finish of the wine had dissipated.

"I used to hate that, you know," she told me, making a face.

"Hate what?"

"When you called me 'Miss Swan' or 'Isabella.' It sounded so formal and stand-offish."

"It was. That was entirely the point. I didn't want to get too close. Be too familiar."

We both let out a short laugh at the thought. "I would venture to say that we are now about as familiar with one another as two human beings can possibly be," she said, giving me a look so seductive that I could feel arousal begin to disrupt the contour of the gabardine fabric between my legs.

"I'd say so," I agreed. My smile faded slightly as I looked at her. "That's why I fought you so hard. I think I knew from the beginning that you'd get inside me like no one else ever has. That you would irrevocably change my life."

"Is that such bad thing?" she asked hesitantly. "You did the same to me, you know."

"Did I?" I mused. Now it was her turn to look incredulous at my lack of confidence in her feelings for me. "Okay, I guess I did," I relented. "But I think you were more ready for it than I was."

She looked even more annoyed now. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. I wasn't even looking for a relationship when I met you. And even after I met you, I never dreamed that my infatuation with you would be a two-way street."

"Why not?"

Her expression became exasperated. "Edward, you're the guy who's had girls fawning over him since birth. And before you argue with me, remember that I saw the evidence at your family's house last weekend. I, on the other hand, am the girl who went to her senior prom with a gay guy because neither of us could get a date with the guy we really wanted to go with. And yes, we both wanted to go with the same guy, if you must know."

I tried not to laugh, but couldn't stop my mirth from bubbling to the surface. "You already know what I think of the men from your past. They were idiots who didn't deserve you."

"Yeah, well, you would have been the equivalent of that unattainable guy who never noticed me, let alone asked me to Prom. So when you did notice me . . . well, you made a pretty big impact," she finished quietly.

I tried not to snicker at the vast chasm between what she thought of me and what I thought of myself. Instead, I reached over the table and took her hand in mine.

"I wish I could have taken you to Prom," I told her. That was the truth. The girl I did take gave me a drunken blow job in the back of my car and then promptly threw up out the door. I decided to save that story for another day.

"And I wish I could have taken you to the Black and Red Ball," I added instead.

"You can take me next year," she suggested.

"It's a date. I'm entering it in my iPhone, so don't even think about going with anyone else."

"Are you kidding? I can't think of a better way to spend our one-year anniversary," she said with a smile.

The grin that stole over my face felt like it stretched from ear to ear. Even though I had felt her distancing herself from me, apparently she thought of the rift as temporary. "That's right, it will be our first anniversary, won't it?"

She nodded and ran her thumb over mine. "We'll have some celebrating to do in the garden maze, I think."

"I like how you think, Miss Swan." And then, I corrected myself. "Bella."

"That's the thing - I kind of like it when you call me 'Miss Swan' now. It feels sort of decadent. Like you're my boss and you've just called me into your office to reprimand me for doing something bad." She lifted one very subtle, yet very provocative, eyebrow at me.

Damn, but she knew how to get my juices flowing. "I highly doubt I'd be reprimanding you for that. Quite the opposite, I would imagine. But you've given me an idea for our next role-playing session."

I detached my hand from hers just enough to run my fingers slowly along her palm. My eyes never left hers; her gaze didn't waver.

"You and your games," she whispered at last with the ghost of a grin.

"You know I'm not playing with you," I murmured.

She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by the arrival of our waiter. I reluctantly let go of her hand, and reached for my silverware instead while he served our bowls of bisque.

I felt the atmosphere turn more serious again as the sun's light began to wane through the windows. The thought of Bella leaving crept into my mind unbidden. I'd been trying not think about it, but her impending departure was only a few days away.

"So have you decided when you're going to leave for your Dad's?" I asked, trying to sound offhand.

"I don't know. Monday or Tuesday, I think," she replied before spooning another mouthful of crab.

"You're going on your birthday?" I couldn't keep the disappointment out of my voice this time.

"Well, maybe. I'm kind of superstitious about driving the day after. I know that's silly," she said quietly.

"No, it's not silly. I don't want you driving if you don't feel comfortable."

"Well, Rose gave me the whole week off, so I can play it by ear. She barely blinked an eye when I asked for vacation time. I'm sure that's her way of trying to make amends," she said with a shrug.

"Is it working?" I asked. I wondered if my attempt to make amends was being received any better.

"A little. I think what will really help is the time away from her. From the whole situation. I need a some distance. Some clarity."

I nodded, unable to argue with her, unable to deny her what she needed.

"I'll miss you," I told her softly.

"It's only a week," she reminded me. "But I'll miss you too."

We ate in silence for a moment before she spoke again.

"You can send me dirty texts, you know. We can have phone sex. That'll be a new one."

I let out a chuckle. "I like how you see the glass half-full, Miss Swan." I grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her glass to exactly the half-way mark.

"I'll drink to that," she said, raising her goblet.

"So will I." I touched my glass to hers and hoped that the sentiment would find its way to my pessimistic soul.

Our toast somehow signaled the arrival of the main course, and we concentrated on our meals then. I made an effort to simply live in that perfect moment, enjoying a delicious meal in an elegant atmosphere, with my favorite person in the world.

I should have known better, of course. Every time I let my guard down and simply believe that I'm deserving of such happiness, it comes crashing down around me in vengeful retribution. Forget the glass simply being half empty - it's usually broken and smashed in my face as well.

We enjoyed a glass of port for dessert, and Bella was beginning to get that drowsy, tipsy, ready-for-love look in her eyes. I was more than ready to take her up on it. We got up from the table, and I took her hand in mine to lead her toward the entrance. I was glancing back at her to make sure I hadn't guided her into anyone's table when it happened.

I heard his voice.

A voice I hoped I'd never hear for the rest of my life.

I hadn't heard it in years, but I recognized it instantly.

"Edward Cullen."

He spoke my name with menace and disgust, the way one would address an enemy. Every muscle in my body stiffened with dread as I slowly turned to face him.

There he stood, all six feet, five inches of him, as big and intimidating as I remembered. He still looked like his suit could barely contain him, and his face was already beginning to turn red with rage at the mere sight of me. I couldn't say I blamed him. He always swore he would kill me if he ever laid eyes on me again, and the fury in his eyes quickly told me that the desire had not faded.

But my instinctual fear made me oddly brazen in that moment. I stepped in front of Bella slightly to shield her, took a deep breath and braced myself.

Then I calmly greeted your father for the first time since your funeral.

"Hello, Mr. Donnelly." I was amazed that my voice was so even. It almost sounded as if it had come from someone else. I shifted my gaze quickly to your mother beside him, still small and unassuming, her tiny hand barely able to grasp his arm. "Mrs. Donnelly," I said to her, more gently this time. She didn't smile at me, nor did she frown. She merely looked afraid.

"I can't believe you have the gall to show your face in this club," he said through gritted teeth. "I told you what would happen if I ever had the misfortune of running into you here. Have you forgotten already?"

I hadn't, though I had buried it pretty well. It suddenly dawned on me why I always made Katrina leave before the day grew long: because I knew that's when your family liked to come play a couple sets of tennis before dinner on the weekends. I refused to let your father's threats keep me from the club where I'd been a member since birth, but I also had no wish to poke the sleeping giant. So I always arrived here with Kate at midday and made sure we left before four o'clock.

Now, as I looked up at him, I realized that maybe that's why I brought Bella here tonight. Perhaps my subconscious had outwitted me at last, and forced me toward the resolution I'd been so desperately trying to avoid.

"No sir, I haven't forgotten your threats," I said evenly. "But the fact is, I have a right to be here as much as you do."

"The Platt family name got you in here, but trust me, I can get you out." He added begrudgingly, "Your mother is a good woman. She's the only reason I haven't had you removed from here long ago."

"Go ahead, if I'm that much of an affront to you. There are other places to play tennis in this city."

"An affront?" he spat. "An affront doesn't begin to describe what you are. You're a goddamned criminal. You should be behind bars for what you did."

I could feel Bella's hand on my arm then, gripping me tightly. I couldn't bear to look at her face. I could already feel the stares, hear the whispers, of everyone else behind us in the dining room. I was surprised that the staff hadn't interceded already. I was sure that the minute we raised our voices, they would.

"Despite what you think, I did nothing wrong. I know you're looking for someone to blame, but I am not responsible for your daughter's actions."

Even as I said the words, I knew I didn't entirely believe them. I wanted to, but I never could quite convince myself. And I sure as hell couldn't convince your father.

His face began to turn purple then, his breath huffing in palpable fumes from his barrel chest. "How can you look me in the eye and say you had nothing to do with what happened to her? She called me the night before, crying her eyes out over your sorry ass once again; and twenty-four hours later, she was dead!"

Bella's fingers were daggers in my arm. I heard her voice, small and frightened, saying my name. I put my hand protectively over hers, but my eyes never left the enraged countenance of your father glaring at me.

"Your daughter was sick. If you hadn't ignored the warning signs all those years, maybe she wouldn't have been as far gone as she was. Every time I thought I had her convinced to get help, you'd talk her out of it and tell her she was fine," I hissed, my voice growing brittle with resentment at the memories he'd unearthed, like ghouls rising from a haunted crypt.

"She was fine until she took up with you!" he accused, his voice cracking with emotion. "She was an A-student. Smart, beautiful, full of life. By the time you were through with her, she was depressed and struggling just to make grades; calling me every other week, crying over the latest stunt you'd pulled." He was practically shaking now. "You can try to kid yourself but you'll never fool me. Her blood is on your hands just as much as if you'd wielded the knife yourself!"

I stared at him, dumbstruck. His version of our history was so skewed that I barely recognized it. I wondered if that's what you had told him, or if that's how he really saw you, and us. Maybe he had twisted what he did know into a past that he could live with, to absolve himself of any blame.

Suddenly, I felt empathy for this man who was ready to grind me into a pulp under his heel. I knew what it felt like to want to change the past; to be unable to bear the guilt of the truth. He and I simply had different ways of dealing with the pain. Or not dealing with it, as the case may be.

But I was done pulling the wool over my own eyes. I'd be damned if I'd let him continue to do the same.

"You can make me the scapegoat - that's fine. In a lot of ways, I deserve it. But you're the one who's fooling yourself if you think your daughter was fine before she met me. She was ill, and it started long before I knew her. You turned a blind eye because you didn't want to see it. You didn't want to admit that your perfect little princess had a flaw - that she might actually need professional help. She was acting out for years and you just put a fucking band-aid on it and told her she'd be fine. Tanya wasn't fine. I made my share of mistakes with her, but if you're looking for someone to blame, you'd better take a long look in the mirror and make sure your hands aren't bloody, too."

He stared at me in unmitigated shock for a moment. I was just as shocked myself. I had never put any of those sentiments into words before, not even in all those useless letters I wrote to you. And now I stood there, nearly panting and quivering as much as your father was at the accusation. The tension between us was so strong that I felt like I might snap like a twig if I didn't calm down.

I didn't have time to try. Your father's shock swiftly turned back to its default setting in my presence - rage. I'll never forget the livid look in his eyes as he shrugged off your mother's timid grip on him and closed the already narrow space between us.

"Don't you dare utter my little girl's name ever again, you murdering piece of filth!" he bellowed.

It only took a split second, but I swear I saw his hammy fist coming at me in slow-motion, fingers curling one at a time into a right hook aimed at the square of my jaw. Yet I still had no time to react; to defend myself or duck out of the way. The brutal crack of his upper-cut knocked my head sideways, rattling every bone of my skull. My teeth sliced into the tender flesh of my mouth and filled it with blood as my head whipped toward Bella. I heard her scream my name; saw the blur of her horrified face as I staggered into her. She tried to catch me, but she was no match for my taller, heavier frame.

My head spun; my vision tripled. I felt my knees give way, and I was going down. But somehow, just before everything went black, I managed to look your father in the eyes and choke out my response to his knock-out punch.

"Thank you."


	45. Atonement

**Thanks for all your support, wonderful readers. I feel truly blessed.**** And thanks to that Steph Meyer gal for coming up with characters that are so much fun to twist into my own mold.**

**P.S. Thanks for the typo-catchin', Carson! ;)**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Monday, September 13**

Happy Birthday to me.

My birthday hasn't been a day to celebrate in years, so I don't know why I thought this time would be any different. Maybe because I had found love and happiness - the kind I never really dreamed I'd have. Or because I thought love could fix all the bad stuff, or at least make it bearable.

Maybe it can. Maybe it just needs time to work its magic, to let its healing fingers repair the damage.

That's what I'm hoping as I stare out my bedroom window, feeling sixteen again. Feeling just like those first days when I stared hopelessly through these glass panes, wondering when I would feel whole again. Normal again. Happy again.

I'm thinking of Edward right now, of course. Always. I can see him in my mind's eye, looking out his own rain-spattered window, absently stroking Lucky's fur. I know he's as miserable as I am, and it hurts me more than my own pain. My jaw ached every time I pressed the ice pack to his face Saturday night. He winced, I winced.

I understood then why he tried to spare me. He must have known how his own pain would cut me to the bone; how acutely I would suffer with him as he relived his horror, wallowed in his guilt. And yet it was a catharsis that neither of us could escape. We simply had to soldier through it.

I reminded myself how I'd relied on his strength to come to grips with my own past; to admit to him my own culpability, no matter how misplaced. And so I shored up my own reserves and stood strong for him so that he could do the same. I thought it would kill me inside, but I did it. I would do anything for him.

Now it's his turn to do the same for me.

"You okay, Bells?"

The familiar, gentle gruffness of Charlie's voice interrupted my thoughts. He leaned in my bedroom doorway, a look of concern furrowing his forehead.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm going to be."

He nodded. "We can talk more in the morning. Or now, if you want. You just let me know."

I gave him a grateful smile. "Tomorrow's good. I'm pretty beat."

He came into the room then and approached the desk chair where I sat; the chair in which I'd done my homework throughout my high school years, and wrote to you, Mom. He leaned down and kissed me gently on the temple. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and said, "It's going to work out. You'll see."

I looked up at him with a modicum of surprise. Charlie wasn't known for his cheerful optimism.

"You think so?"

"From what you've told me, yeah. I think so. Seems like this Edward has his heart in the right place. He was trying to spare you from things that had nothing to do with you; things you can't do anything about now. Don't know that I would have done any different myself."

My surprise grew. Maybe he and Edward would get along better than I ever dreamed.

"Thanks, Dad." I pressed my hand over his for a moment while he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly once more. He gave my hair a quick pat before leaving the room and heading off to bed.

Today was a bit of a revelation. Charlie and I aren't much for words, but as soon as he gave me a bear hug in greeting, I felt hot tears spill from my eyes, followed by words from my lips. When he asked me what was wrong, the floodgates opened. I told him everything, from my troubles with Rosalie to my heartbreaking weekend with Edward. My poor dad had never gotten such an earful from me. But without you around, and Angela at Ben's all weekend, I had nowhere else to turn.

Charlie was great. He listened; he nodded, hummed and grunted in all the right places. And now, he reassured me about Edward. Amidst the turmoil of my life, my relationship with my father has been an unexpected bright light. We reached a new level of closeness because of it. Bet you're surprised to see that from your perch up there in the clouds, or wherever you are.

I can't see the clouds now, but I know they're out there. All I see is black; all I hear is the raindrops tapping a steady rhythm against the pane. I wonder if it's raining in Seattle, or if Edward's looking out at a starry night sky. He'd probably prefer the clouds right now.

I already had a text message from him when I arrived earlier.

_Please let me know when you get there safely._

I answered immediately. _I'm here. No problems on the road. How is your jaw?_

_Hurts like hell. It's good for me. I'm glad your trip was uneventful. I love you._

_Put ice on it again and take those pills your dad gave you. I love you, too._

I had thought it was bad when Alice hit Rosalie last Monday, but I was horribly naïve. I found out what real violence looked and sounded like when Tanya Donnelly's father laid into Edward. The last time I'd felt terror like that was the accident. I had hoped I'd never have to see someone I love splattered with blood ever again - hoped I'd never have to wear that blood myself. But Donnelly's mammoth fist propelled a crimson gush from Edward's mouth that spattered us both as he fell into me.

I shuddered now at the memory, but couldn't keep myself from reliving it. Couldn't stop remembering how Edward fought to keep his balance instead of knocking me sideways; how I tried in vain to steady him when that brute literally knocked him off his feet. I watched in horror as Edward's eyes began to roll back in his head before his body slumped to the floor.

But I'll never forget that second of clarity in his eyes, nor that macabre smile that twisted his lips, as he rasped his appreciation for the punishment he'd been craving for so long.

Edward actually said "thank you" to the man who knocked him out cold.

I wanted to throw myself at Donnelly and pummel him with my fists. Spit on him and claw at him and make him pay somehow for the damage he'd just inflicted.

But all I could do was scream while several club employees restrained him and kept him from coming at Edward again. Donnelly even tried to kick Edward as they dragged him away, and I glared in loathing at the man who would literally kick someone while he was down. Then I fell to my knees beside Edward and tried to roll him over. A waiter materialized on the other side of him and helped me. My relief was profound at the groan Edward emitted, and the flutter of his eyelashes, when we moved him.

His eyes were unfocused for a moment, but he squeezed my hand when I grabbed his.

"Bella?" he whispered, turning his head in my direction.

"I'm right here," I told him, reaching out my other hand to smooth his hair and stroke the untouched side of his face.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be," I told him. "Just lie still until we get you some help."

The next hour was a blur of tennis club employees coming to Edward's aid, followed by the arrival of the police. A sports medicine expert on staff checked Edward out in the infirmary, packing his mouth with gauze and thankfully determining that all of Edward's teeth were still intact. He said he didn't think that the split in Edward's lip would need stitches, but that it wouldn't hurt to see a doctor and dentist in a couple of days to make sure everything was healing properly.

Once Edward came to, he looked annoyed, or maybe embarrassed, by all the attention. He waved the medical attendant away and assured the police that he didn't need an ambulance. When I suggested that he should go to the hospital to make sure he didn't have a concussion, he gave me a look so baleful that I quickly bit my lip. Apparently his pride had been just as wounded as his face.

Still, he refused to press charges against Tanya's father. The club higher-ups promised that they would take punitive action against him, and I almost snorted out loud at the suggestion. Suspending Donnelly's membership would be a useless slap on the wrist.

"Edward, he assaulted you," I pleaded with him. "Have him arrested, for God's sake."

He glared again, a warning look the likes of which he'd never directed at me. "Leave it alone, Bella. There's no point. What's done is done." His voice was thick with the effort it took to speak through his gauze-filled wound.

He looked stubbornly up at the cops from the cot where he lay, half propped-up on pillows, while he held a cold compress to his swelling jaw.

The sports medicine guy piped up then. "Mr. Cullen, you should reconsider. If Mr. Donnelly had aimed about three inches higher, you might not be talking to us right now."

My heart rate doubled at the meaning of his words. If Tanya's father had punched Edward hard enough in the temple . . . No, it was unthinkable.

"Well, he didn't. No permanent damage was done." Edward's eyes drifted; settled on the empty air in front of him. "We're even now," he muttered softly.

I shook my head in frustration. Edward's refusal to push the issue left no other recourse but to release him, and worse yet, Tanya's father. As disillusioned as I was that Edward had kept so much from me, I was much more furious at Donnelly for the way he behaved. If Tanya had taken her own life, then Edward was merely a convenient target upon which to vent his pain and anger. He should be forced to own up to his misplaced aggression and face the consequences.

But Edward let him off the hook.

The club staff insisted on sending us home in a cab, following behind with Edward's car. We sat hand in hand, wrapped in a stifling blanket of silence. Edward stared dully, unseeing, at the back of the driver's seat while his other hand pressed the cold pack to his face. I couldn't stop glancing at the spots of dried blood on his shirt collar. I couldn't wait to get him back to the loft so I could get us both some clean clothes.

I went into mothering mode the minute we stepped inside the door. I took the ice pack from him and put it in the freezer to make it cold again. He followed me to the bedroom and watched from the doorway as I rifled through his drawers and got us both fresh clothes to wear. Then he let me lead him to the bathroom, where I undressed him and cleaned him up with a washcloth. It was the first time that there was no sexual intent in my actions, and none in his reactions. He simply looked resigned as I washed the blood away from him and then from myself. I helped him dress; he finally came to life and did the same for me, holding my favorite worn t-shirt of his over my head so that I could put my arms through the holes.

"Do you want to go to bed? Or sit up for awhile?" I asked him when we were done.

"Let's go sit in the living room," he mumbled thickly. His face was red and swollen; his eye socket turning a faint blue. It ached to look at him, his beauty even more poignant to me now that it was marred and twisted with pain. I took his hand and led him out to the couch.

"You sit down while I get the ice pack," I ordered, dropping his hand.

"No, that can wait. My face is still completely numb."

"Then let me get you some pain pills for when the cold wears off."

He shrugged and slumped on the sofa while I rounded up some Advil and a glass of water. I administered the drugs and sat facing him on the couch while he swallowed and then cringed at the effort. I took the glass from him when he was finished and set it on the coffee table, then reached over and gently stroked his hair.

"Please stop taking care of me," he mumbled wearily.

"I'll never stop taking care of you. I love you."

His eyes closed and he slowly shook his head. "Why?"

I sighed and continued to finger his hair. "I have no idea."

His grin was short-lived before it turned to a grimace. "Don't make me laugh."

"I doubt I can right now," I answered frankly.

He was quiet for a moment, that faraway look in his eyes again. He blinked and returned to the present.

"I'm sorry I put you through that," he said with a penitent sigh. "You shouldn't have had to find out about Tanya that way. I don't know why I couldn't seem to tell you everything before."

"I do," I answered. "Remember who you're talking to? I know how much it hurts."

It was his turn to reach out and take a few strands of my hair between his fingers. "I didn't want you to hurt along with me."

"It's too late for that," I said, putting my hand over his. "It has been for awhile."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He continued to play with locks of my hair despite my efforts to take his hand in mine. He looked as if the strands between his fingers were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen.

Abruptly he stopped, then took a deep breath. "I guess I should start from the beginning." His tone was purposeful; portentous.

"You don't have to do this now," I told him. "You can barely speak."

"No. No more secrets." A wry smile suddenly played at his swollen, cracked lips. "I sound like Rosalie did a week ago. Funny how it took a beating to get us both to finally drop our guards."

"Hilarious," I murmured dryly.

His hand was on my face then, thumb caressing my cheek. "I wish I had met you at U-Dub. You would have been a freshman when I was a junior, I think."

"No, I think you were a senior when I started college," I told him.

His wistful smile faded. "That is a pity. I met Tanya my junior year instead." His hand dropped to the couch between us. He sighed and continued.

"Remember that comment you made about me and girls? That they were always fawning over me, my whole life?" I gave a brief nod. "Well, I guess you were right. I never had to work very hard to get a girl's attention. That's not such a good thing. It can make you cocky and arrogant. Or just bored."

I bristled slightly, imagining the playboy that he used to be. "Men do like the chase," I said. A generalization, to be sure, but one that seemed to be true more often than not.

"I think it's in our DNA or something," he agreed. "And I never had much opportunity to chase anyone. That's probably why I was drawn to Tanya at first. I met her at a party, and she was doing her own thing, hanging out with her girlfriends. She wanted nothing to do with me. So, of course, I took that as a personal challenge to win her over."

He reached for the glass of water on the table and took a sip. "Turns out I'd met my match, or so I thought. She never had much trouble attracting any guy she wanted, either. So we had fun playing cat and mouse for awhile.

"That's how it was in the beginning. Fun. We were just having fun, I thought. We dated most of junior year, but I lived in an apartment with a couple buddies of mine, and she lived in a sorority house. We spent as much time studying and hanging out with our friends as we did hanging out together. It was a normal balance for two college kids. I thought everything was fine. I thought _she _was fine. A little wild, but I was into that at the time. She liked to party and have fun, and she didn't seem to give a shit what anyone thought of her."

He stopped and gave me a meaningful look. "I've always been attracted to strong women. Women who aren't afraid to stand up for themselves, or what they believe in." He reached for my face again, caressing it briefly.

"But back then, I mistook brashness for strength. Tanya was headstrong and stubborn and willful. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. It was her way or the highway, with no in between.

"So I did things her way, for awhile. We saw each other more during the summer before our senior year, and that's when I began to notice the problems. See the cracks in that carefree mask she wore.

"I started to realize just how often she was using recreational drugs, for one. I knew she liked to take a little Ecstasy before going out, and she'd come down by smoking pot. I wasn't really into it because I don't like feeling that out of control." He stopped and mustered a crooked grin at me. "Imagine that."

My answering smile was brief. His own faded quickly.

"Anyway, when the drug use became more frequent, I started to suspect that she was self-medicating. She probably should have been on lithium, or anti-depressants. I'll never really know. I'm not a psychiatrist, and I wasn't studying to be one. I didn't see the signs right away. I just thought she was moody. Girls are moody, right? PMS or whatever." He shrugged and gave me a guilty look. "That's the way I thought back then. I _didn't_ think. I never dreamed there was anything seriously wrong until we moved in together."

He paused, and I felt my blood growing cold with dread. Wherever this was going, it wasn't good. And I didn't like hearing about Edward's only long-term relationship before me. I knew that was why I hadn't pushed him to reveal the details, even though he needed to get whatever he was hiding out in the open. I was afraid of what I might hear. And now that the moment was at hand, that fear was palpable, forcing my heart to work harder to push the icy blood through my veins.

"We got a little more serious over the summer, and she started pushing for us to get an apartment together our senior year. Her parents didn't approve. Neither did mine." He let out a wry laugh. "Mom and Dad could see what a train wreck it would be. They never suspected what was really going on with her, but they always felt something was 'off.' They didn't like her, and they didn't bother to hide it from me. They were always civil toward her, of course. And her parents seemed to like me okay in the beginning. We even played tennis together a few times that summer. But they still didn't want their little girl living in sin with me."

He took another sip of water; made another grimace of pain. "Of course, we ended up doing what we damned well pleased. I think Tanya lived to defy her father. But then she'd turn right around and beg for his forgiveness after the fact. And of course, his perfect princess could do no wrong in his eyes, so she was always forgiven. I don't even want to consider the psychological implications of that," he said with a look of distaste.

"It was after we moved in together that I discovered just how bad her emotional and mental state was. I think she must have had classic bipolar disorder. She was up and down like a see-saw. Her highs would last for days, even weeks. She would go through frenzies of activity - rearranging all the furniture in apartment, jogging three times a day, partying all the time, only sleeping three or four hours a night. It was exhausting. And when I couldn't keep up with her, she'd tell me I was a stick in the mud, and that she was going to dump my boring ass and find someone new. I'd get fed up and tell her to go ahead. Then she'd start crying hysterically and accuse me of not loving her anymore. It was nuts."

He paused, his puffy lips forming a bitter smile. "I always swore I'd never use words like that. 'Nuts.' 'Crazy.' But she wasn't … normal. It took me a long time to see it. Or maybe it just took me awhile to admit it. But our fights started happening more often, because she was just … irrational. Giddy and euphoric one minute, depressed and crying the next.

"The manic episodes were almost worse than the depressive ones. She would talk a mile a minute, and she would make these grand plans for our future together. She kept hinting around at us getting married after graduation. She'd pester me constantly about where I was planning to go to med school so she could look for a job there, or maybe continue her own education. She was an art history major, and she was interested in architecture, so she'd taken some drafting and engineering courses. She was smart, when she applied herself. But she was getting more and more scattered and unfocused.

"I started to wonder if I was a bad influence on her, somehow. It seemed like she had gotten along better when she was living with all her friends in the sorority house. I think maybe she had more of a support system there than living alone with me. I had some really tough courses senior year, and I started going to the library and other places on campus to study because I couldn't concentrate at the apartment when she was in one of her phases. And then, of course, she'd complain that I was never around and never paid any attention to her. She even accused me of cheating on her. Like I had the time or energy to even think about that."

He let out an exhausted breath. "It was just a vicious circle. Nothing I did was right. But then she'd come out of it for a few days and she'd seem like her old self again. She didn't always have depressive episodes. Sometimes she'd just be normal. Again, I hate to use terms like that, but I don't know how else to describe it. I was able to talk to her rationally during those times, and I started to make gentle suggestions that she see a counselor to talk about what was going on. Because I think she knew, in her heart, that there was something wrong. She wasn't happy. And I couldn't seem to make her happy, no matter what I did.

"I finally succeeded in getting her to go to a psychologist a couple of times. Each time I did, her dad would find out about it and tell her that she was wasting her time and money, listening to 'that psychobabble.' He'd tell her there was nothing wrong with her that a long run or a couple games of tennis wouldn't cure."

Edward snorted derisively. "You saw for yourself what kind of man he is. Domineering, closed-minded. What he said went in that household. It's no wonder she had such a rebellious streak - a need to control her own world once she went to college and got out from under his iron fist. But she could never stop seeking his approval. And Daddy didn't approve of shrinks, so that was that."

Edward stopped for a moment. He looked so tired, and his bruises were worsening. I wanted to go get the ice pack for him, but I knew he needed to finish his story. I tried to wait patiently; tried to appear strong and capable even though I felt sick inside. I didn't want to hear any more.

"The closer we got to the end of the semester and our final exams, the more stressed out we became. Our arguments were happening more often, usually over the fact that I still hadn't decided what graduate schools I was going to apply for and the deadlines were getting near. She was pushing the marriage idea again, and the more she pushed, the more I balked. Her pressuring me only made me realize that I just couldn't see that kind of future with her. I started admitting to myself that I didn't really love her anymore. Not the way she needed me to, anyway. I couldn't be her support system - not when I felt like I was barely treading water myself. I just wanted out. And I knew that if that's how I felt, I should end things with her before we got in any deeper.

"But it was so hard to bring myself to drop that kind of bomb on her when she was so fragile. I was afraid that if I threatened to leave her, she'd lose it entirely.

"So, I tried to wait it out until the end of the semester." A bitter smile flitted across his face. "I failed miserably. About a week before finals, we got into one of our typical fights, and when she started in on me again, I just snapped. I told her that even if I had chosen a med school, I probably wouldn't have told her about it because I wasn't sure I wanted her to follow me there."

Edward shook his head in regret. "She looked at me like I'd just slapped her. I guess I had, in a way. She was literally trembling when she said to me, 'I'm sorry my existence is such a fucking inconvenience for you.' Then she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her."

Edward took another drink of water; it clearly pained him to swallow. I wondered if we should change the gauze packing that distended his cheek, but now definitely wasn't the time.

"I was so close to just walking out of the apartment and leaving her there to cool off. But something in her eyes - in her voice - told me to go after her. I got to the bathroom just in time to catch her swallowing a handful of pills."

My breath caught in my throat, but Edward didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in the memory as he continued.

"I wrestled the bottle from her and then forced her to throw up. I literally stuck my finger down her throat." He paused, shuddering. I was too nauseous to even respond.

"I begged her to get help again. She told me she didn't need a psychiatrist - she just needed me. I tried to explain to her that I didn't know how to help her anymore; that this was beyond me. But it was so hard to get through to her when she was like that. And I was getting so tired of it all. Of trying to be strong for both of us, and still keep up my grades. It was just too much. All of it."

He sighed heavily and set his water glass back on the table. He finally looked at me then, in a strange mixture of apology and defensiveness. I could tell he didn't want my pity, even though the situation warranted it. I tried to give him a look of reassurance, but in truth, I didn't know how much more I could bear to hear.

"I managed to calm her down that night. I probably lied and told her all the things she wanted to hear, just so she wouldn't be tempted to take any more pills. And she was fine for a few days. We managed to keep afloat a little while longer. But the same abyss dragged us down again, and within a week we were in the middle of another cesspool."

Edward's hollow gaze was focused on the past as he continued ominously. "It was the Thursday night before finals. Tanya wanted to go out; I wanted to stay in and study. That was all it took for us to start bickering - such a simple thing. Such a ridiculous thing. But that's what we were reduced to by then - every little ripple between us turned into a huge tidal wave. It was just indicative of what was really going on beneath the surface.

"We said horrible things to each other. Ugly things meant to inflict as much emotional damage as possible. It finally ended with me telling her that I'd had enough - I was moving out, and that when I came back the next day to get my things, I'd better not find her there.

"She flipped out, like I knew she would. But I'd gotten to the point where I was almost immune to her hysterics, and I told her as much.

"Then I remember her screaming at me, 'I don't know how else to get through to you!'

"And I told her, 'You can't. You can't get through to me anymore. I'm done living like this. Until you can admit you have a problem and get some help, I can't be with you anymore.'

"She said, 'You think I'm crazy, don't you? You think I'm a fucking nut case. Well if I am, it's because _you_ made me this way. The minute anything gets too heavy or too real between us, you shut down. If I even mention any plans for our future together, you clam up or run out the door.'

"And I replied, 'That's because I'm not sure I want a future with you.'"

Edward sighed heavily, his eyes bleary. "That set her off again, of course. But then I proved her point by deciding to stay at Jasper's place that night. I remember trying to fill my backpack while she followed me from room to room, crying and begging me not to go. Her weakness only wore on my nerves at that point. I just wanted some peace … to not have deal with the madness anymore. I thought that maybe if I left for good this time, she'd take my advice seriously and see a psychiatrist. I don't know. I was so tired. So done."

He looked that way now, and I wanted to reach out to comfort him; but I seemed to be frozen, immobile with dread.

"She followed me to the door, grabbing at me, sobbing. It only repelled me. I was halfway out the door when she gave me her own ultimatum:

"'If you leave me, I swear to God I'll go through with it this time.'"

My heart dropped, imagining it. I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

"I just stared at her," Edward continued. "We both knew exactly what she was talking about. I should have known she wasn't bluffing. But I was so sick of her threats, so sick of her trying to manipulate me.

"So you know what I said to her?" Edward stopped his narrative and looked me dead in the eyes, challenging me. Daring me to ask him. I only stared back dumbly, my stomach twisting into painful knots as I awaited the terrible truth.

"I told her, 'Fine. Go ahead. Put us both out of our misery. I don't give a damn what you do anymore.'"

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut in denial and swallow the bile that rose in my throat. But my eyes were locked with Edward's in pity and horror as the reason for his guilt set in. I knew that it would do no good to try to convince him he wasn't at fault, so I sat and waited for the truth to tumble from his lips like a head from the guillotine's blade.

"Those were my exact words. I told a mentally unstable girl - one I had professed to love - to go ahead and kill herself." His features were twisted in a self-loathing so sharp that its knife's edge cut me to the core.

And then he abruptly laughed; a sick, slightly hysterical sound. "How the hell was I supposed to know that she'd pick that moment to start taking my advice? She never did what I told her before."

"Edward . . ." My voice was a mere crumb. I wanted to soothe him, but didn't know how. I wanted to stop him, but I knew it was no use. I simply sat, inert, and waited while he gathered his strength. His body tensed and his face contorted with the effort to continue.

"I went back the next day when I knew she'd be in class. It was silent as a tomb in the apartment. You'd think I would have sensed it … would have known I was walking into a shroud of death.

"But you know what I felt? Relief." He stopped and gave me that hard, challenging look again. "I was relieved that she wasn't there so I could pack my things in peace.

"So that's what I did. I filled the Volvo with what I could carry and decided to leave her the bulk of the furniture. Most of what we had were flea market finds and hand-me-downs from our parents. I worked fast, wanting to get out before she came back from class."

He paused again, and I felt every ounce of awful portent along with him as his breathing grew more ragged.

"The bathroom was the last place I went. I thought I'd taken most of my stuff out of there the night before when I went to Jasper's place, but I decided I'd better check just to be sure.

"The door was ajar, and before I even turned the light on, I saw this metallic glint on the floor, near the bathtub. I remember staring at it for the longest time, like I couldn't figure out what it was. Of course, I knew what it was. I just couldn't figure out what a butcher knife was doing in the bathroom.

"I stood there in denial for I don't know how long. I couldn't wrap my mind around the horror of the truth. But there was blood on the knife - I could see it clearly from where I was standing. And in that moment, I knew. I knew exactly what I would see when I stepped inside that room and walked toward that bathtub.

"I was frozen to the spot with dread. I wanted to turn around and run. But somehow I forced myself to walk to the tub instead. I felt like a puppet being jerked forward by strings - being forced to come and face the grisly truth."

Edward's eyes squeezed shut for a moment; mine were wide with second-hand horror.

"She had filled the tub with enough water that she was completely submerged. I'll spare you the details - I'm sure you can imagine what I found. I stared at her body in … just … shock, I guess. Complete horror … disbelief. I didn't want to accept that she had done that to herself. That she would really go through with it.

"I knew she was dead. I could see that she was long gone. But for some reason, I suddenly snapped to, like I'd been awakened from a nightmare, only to find that reality was ten times worse. I sprang into action then, far too late. I pulled her out of the tub; she was so cold and stiff that I could barely maneuver her. Yet I couldn't seem to give up. Couldn't stop trying to breathe life back into her somehow. I gave her CPR and mouth-to-mouth - utterly useless, but I had to do it. I had to try, even though I knew there was no way to resuscitate a corpse."

"Edward, stop." I was surprised to hear my own voice. It was a hoarse croak, a desperate plea. I couldn't take any more. I wanted to block the vision in my head of Edward pulling Tanya from a pool of her own blood and trying to revive her. I knew how utterly devastating the ordeal must have been. How Edward would have been soaked in that sea of red, desperate and guilty and terrified to his very marrow. I knew about blood and horror and regret. The tears that rolled down my cheeks now were from a painfully familiar place.

Edward looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, his expression so fraught that I instinctively sought to comfort him. I reached out to smooth the battered side of his face, knowing that I was powerless to heal a pain that went so much deeper.

He winced, but mirrored my actions, his own fingers rising tentatively to my cheek.

"I didn't want to make you relive that with me," he whispered. His gaze faltered. "I didn't want to relive it myself."

"I know," I answered, gingerly stroking his swollen face. "I hate that you ever had to go through something like that. It makes me sick inside." I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest, right under his neck. I let my tears fall unfettered; let them soak the fabric of his t-shirt. His own arms wound protectively around me and he held me close for a long moment. I heard him sniff a couple of times, and I hoped that he was letting some of those pent-up emotions out. I hoped he was finding whatever solace in me that he could.

I finally raised my head and kissed him on the wound-free side of his face, tasting the saltwater of his tears. I wiped them away with my fingers; he reached up and did the same to me.

_Sea of Red._

Edward's song of pain materialized in my head, and I gasped at its full meaning. The words suddenly made sense to me now. What I had assumed to be metaphor had actually been gruesome, unthinkable reality. My heart ached for him in a way I'd never imagined it could.

"Edward, why did you tell me Tanya drowned?" I asked him quietly.

His smile was grim. "Another lie of omission for which I need to beg your forgiveness. The coroner's report listed drowning as the official cause of death. The autopsy determined that after she slit her wrists, she lost consciousness due to loss of blood. She was technically still alive when she passed out and slid down into the water. She asphyxiated before she ever bled out."

I shook my head violently then to silence him. "Dear God," I whispered with a shudder. "Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry, Edward. I hate that she did that to you. To herself."

He nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. He looked haggard, like he'd just survived a battle. I knew that the emotional one was far more draining than the physical.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I know exactly how hard this was for you." I held his face gently and stroked his cheek with my thumb. "But I hope maybe you can start to let go of it now. The mental illness is what took her life. You do know that, don't you?"

His lips twisted into a brief snicker. "Maybe if you tell me enough, I'll believe it."

I shook my head in resignation. "I think in your head, you already do. But the heart isn't always so quick to follow."

Edward's fingers combed through the hair at my temple and he gave me a wan smile. "I'd ask you how you got so wise, but I know the answer to that. And I'm sorry for what you had to go through to achieve it."

"I'm sorry for us both," I answered quietly. I rose from the sofa to retrieve the ice pack from his freezer. When I returned, he was carefully picking the wad of blood-soaked gauze from the inside of his cheek.

"I must look like Marlon Brando with this shit in my mouth," he joked weakly.

"A little. Much hotter, though," I assured him. "Should I go get you some more gauze?"

He shook his head. "I think the bleeding has stopped." But he grunted in pain when I carefully applied the ice pack to the side of his face again.

"We should call a dental surgeon. You might need stitches," I said worriedly.

He shook his head. "The inside of the mouth heals quickly. It should be better in the morning."

"You would make a really good doctor, you know," I said. "You could still do it."

He smiled briefly; his eyes looked lost in thought for a moment. "I'd have to repeat my entire senior year just to get my undergrad degree. I never did take my final exams for that first semester. The dean even offered to let me take them late, due to 'extenuating circumstances.' But I just … shut down, I guess. I never went back. Mom and Dad tried to be patient and supportive, but my father never could accept me blowing my education like that. I get why. He didn't want to see me ruin my life over what happened. But I think ruining my life was my way of punishing myself for the way I handled everything. Or mishandled it, really. I figured I didn't deserve a good life when I'd practically taken someone else's with my carelessness."

"You have to stop that," I told him. "You didn't make her do what she did. You said it yourself, to her father - that you're not responsible for her actions. That's the truth. You have to let go of the guilt, no matter now tempting it is to hang onto it. It's keeping you stuck in the past. And I really need you and want you here with me, in the present."

His eyes swept over my face, grateful and loving and pained all at once. "You don't even know what you've done for me. How you've saved me from myself. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. That was never my intention. That seems to be my gift - hurting the ones I love with very little effort."

"Stop it." My voice was firmer this time. "You know how much you healed me. How you've been there for me when I needed you. I won't let you wallow in this self-blame anymore. You didn't raise the knife to Tanya any more than I deliberately drove my mother into the path of an oncoming truck. This has to end." I regarded the doubt and sorrow in his eyes and my own sadness grew.

"Please," I added softly.

His fingers worked my hair again, massaging my scalp, subconsciously soothing me when he was the one who needed comfort. "I'd do anything for you, Bella."

"I know. But I think the question now is, would you do the same for yourself?"

His fingers stilled. His brow furrowed and the shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes again.

"I'll try," he said at last.

I nodded and reached over to press my lips tenderly to his. I knew that this was all he could promise me right now. And for now, it was enough.

I led him to the bedroom and arranged the bed pillows so that his head would be elevated more than normal while he slept. I helped him get situated under the covers, then held the cold compress to his face for awhile, smoothing his hair and stroking his battered but still beautiful face until he grew drowsy.

"You would make an excellent doctor yourself," he murmured when I removed the ice pack and hopped off the bed to return it to the kitchen.

"Anything is possible. The future is wide open," I reminded him.

His eyes remained closed, but his brief grin was reassuring. "I like how you think, Miss Swan," he repeated.

"Then start thinking that way yourself," I answered half under my breath as I left the room.

When I returned, he was unconscious. I carefully crawled under the covers and wrapped myself around him, but sleep was elusive for me. I couldn't dispel the ugly images that invaded my mind. Every time Edward groaned or fidgeted restlessly in his sleep, I jerked awake and studied him in the dim light to make sure he was okay. When he awoke in the middle of the night, complaining of the throbbing in his jaw, I was quick to get him more pain pills. I was ready, willing and able to be his nursemaid until his physical wounds began to heal.

But the question that worried me throughout the long night was this: Would I be able to help him heal the wounds that ran so much deeper?

I prayed for strength as the dawn's light began to filter around the edges of the bedroom window. I laid my head on Edward's chest and let the soft rumble of his breathing lull me to sleep.


	46. Estrangement

**Sorry it's taken so long for this update. I got distracted by a little movie called "Breaking Dawn." ;-) And then there was the Thanksgiving holiday thrown in there as well.**

**Speaking of which, I'm thankful for all of you who have checked out my story and left feedback of one kind or another. I am most grateful for your support.**

**And now, on with this fully un-beta'd chapter. Hopefully I won't have to go back and fix things more than a half-dozen times. ;p**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Monday, September 13 (cont'd.)**

When I woke up yesterday morning, the sun was high in the sky and Edward's side of the bed was empty.

I stretched and blinked, my mind blessedly blank for a minute. I simply luxuriated in my favorite king-sized cocoon, wondering idly if Edward was reading or checking email, or maybe attempting to make me breakfast. I giggled at the thought.

And then the reality of the night before came rushing back to me, crushing my fleeting bliss with one swift blow.

Much like the impact Mr. Donnelly's fist had on Edward's face, I supposed.

I frowned and forced myself to sit up. I needed to go find him and make sure he was okay. I didn't stop to think about whether or not I was okay. I was afraid if I allowed myself that luxury, I might not like the answer.

When I reached the bedroom door, I heard the low murmur of Edward's voice and followed it to the living room. He lounged on one end of the sofa, cell phone to his ear. He smiled - then winced - when he saw me. The crack in his bottom lip had darkened to an ugly scab, and the side of his face protruded slightly in a profusion of faint eggplant-colored bruises. I tried not to gasp at the sight, but the sound was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Well, judging by Bella's reaction, I'm a pretty sight this morning," he quipped into the phone. He paused to listen, then added, "I know. All this from one measly punch. Which only proves what a complete pussy I am."

I gave him a reproachful look as I sat down facing him on the couch. I could hear his sister's voice over the phone, and her tone matched my expression.

"Alice says I'm a pussy, too," Edward told me with a sly grin.

Her violent protests were easy to hear through the tiny speaker. I gave his leg a reproving shove while he chuckled at us both.

"Yeah, I know," he said to her in reply. "Bella thinks I should have had him arrested, too. But it only would have added fuel to the fire of his resentment. This way, he got in his last licks so maybe he can stop blaming me for everything. Well, as much as he'll ever be able to."

He listened to her answer, then said, "I know he's as much at fault as I am. That's something he'll have to live with for the rest of his life. It's punishment enough."

He gave me a meaningful look and reached over to give my knee a squeeze.

"Sure," he said into the phone, then handed it to me. "Alice wants to talk to you. I'll be back in a minute." He gave me a light kiss on the forehead before rising from the couch and heading for the bathroom.

"Hey Alice. Are you all settled in your new place?" I greeted her.

"Moved in, yes. Settled, not so much. Jasper just left and I miss him already. Seems like some kind of freaky dream that I'm back in school. I mean, I just graduated, didn't I?" she asked with a wistful laugh.

"Well, I commend you for going back to finish your education. Getting a medical degree can't be easy."

"No. Trust me, if it was, I'd have found a way to be licensed to practice already," she said before changing the subject. "But forget about me and the fifty pounds of textbooks I just bought today. How are you doing? I can't believe you found out about Tanya the way you did. I told Edward nothing good would come of his procrastination."

"I'm okay, I guess. I mean, I'm not the one walking around looking like a tenderized pork chop," I joked weakly.

"Not on the outside, anyway," she replied insightfully. "If Edward had been up-front with you, maybe this would have been easier for you to deal with."

"Well, I'm not sure there ever would have been a good time for the discussion we had last night. But yeah, it was kind of a shock. I wish Edward would have pressed charges against Mr. Donnelly."

"I'm not surprised he didn't," Alice sighed. "In Edward's mind, he had it coming. Knowing his guilt complex, it probably actually made him feel better."

"I think you're right about that. And I get why he feels that way. But I just wonder if it's going to change anything."

"Hmm. I don't know," she mused. "Edward's been using the guilt as a crutch for a long time. It's been a good excuse for him not to move forward with his life. But if anyone can give him a reason to change, it's you."

"I hope so," I replied. I wasn't sure I wanted the onus of Edward's recovery to be on my shoulders. I knew that if he really wanted to change, he'd have to want to do it for himself.

"I know so," Alice said confidently. "Now that everything's out in the open, you two can start with a clean slate. Believe me when I tell you that I've never seen him the way he is when he's with you. You make him happy like no one ever has before. Trust me, I know."

"My ears are burning," Edward's voice drifted over my shoulder. "Whatever my baby sister is saying about me, it's a lie."

"I sure hope not," I said as he resumed his place next to me on the sofa.

"Wow, you mean she's being nice for a change? She must miss me already. Or maybe it's just pity."

"I do miss him," Alice piped up in my ear. "I miss you both. You have to promise to email me and text me and tweet me. I swear I'll answer, even if I only have time for two lines."

"You know I will, and so will Edward. You want to talk to him again?"

"No, just remind him to have Dad check him out and give him the good drugs if he needs 'em."

"Will do," I said with a chuckle.

We said our good-byes and I handed the phone to Edward. He set it on the coffee table and looked up at me cautiously, as if he was bracing himself.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Sore. Apologetic." He reached out to cup the side of my face briefly. "I'm sorry I put you through all that last night."

I shook my head firmly. "No more apologies." I leaned in and gently stroked his injured jaw. "Alice said your dad can get you a prescription for some pain pills. Why don't you call him?"

He grimaced slightly. "Not necessary. I've got some leftover painkillers from a couple years ago when I sprained my wrist slamming one of Katrina's fly balls." He let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Did you take some this morning?"

"No."

I sighed in mild exasperation. "Typical man. Did you at least eat some breakfast? I can't believe you let me sleep so late."

"I figured you needed it after taking care of me all night. I made myself a protein shake. I'm surprised the blender didn't wake you. But the thought of chewing wasn't terribly appealing to me, so . . ."

I frowned and ran my thumb gently over his cracked bottom lip. "I could make you some soup for lunch, when you're ready," I offered.

He smiled and pulled me close. "Sounds good. I might take you up on that offer."

We snuggled quietly on the couch for a bit. I was still feeling drained from the evening before; still feeling the aftershocks of Edward's seismic admissions. He seemed subdued himself, his arms heavy and protective around me. I knew I could spend the entire day this way, wrapped in his embrace, and be content.

"You know, I can postpone my trip to Forks," I said at last, breaking the silence. "I don't like leaving you like this."

"You don't have to do that for me. I'm fine. I've endured worse." He fingered his jaw, apparently examining the swelling.

"So you won't even miss me, then?" I teased.

"I'll miss you like crazy. You know that."

"Maybe you can come up next weekend and meet Charlie," I said, then immediately wanted to bite my tongue off for suggesting it. I still had trouble envisioning the two most important men in my life spending more than about ten minutes in each other's company without running out of things to talk about.

"I'd love to meet your dad," Edward said, with a little too much relish for my liking.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure you'll win him over with your face looking like a mincemeat pie. Maybe we should wait until you're healed."

"Oh, I'll be good as new by next weekend," he grinned. "Besides, he doesn't know what the other guy looks like. I can make up a great story about how I defended your honor against some lowlife thug."

"Tanya's father might as well be a thug. The guy is huge and he attacked you without any warning or way to defend yourself. You should have pressed charges," I grumbled.

Edward's smile faded. "I just want it to be over now."

I gave him a relenting nod. "I know. I do, too."

"I'm glad we agree on that."

We shared a gentle kiss, and afterward I ran my finger over the hardness of his healing lip.

"I hate that he did this to you," I whispered. "Marred these sweet lips." I kissed him softly again.

"They'll be good as new before you know it," Edward assured me. "And when they are, I intend to put them to good use again." His eyes traversed my body up and down, gleaming with that light I love so much. "But in the meantime, I'll just have to use my fingers instead."

His hands were on me then, following the path his eyes had just roamed. I sighed with pleasure and let my own hands find the warmth of his skin under his t-shirt.

"I wanted to end yesterday by making love to you all night," he whispered, his fingers exploring under the hem of my borrowed shirt. "Best laid plans . . ."

"Don't let him ruin them," I said. "We still have today."

He smiled and kissed me as well as he could, but the rumble of discomfort in his throat gave him away.

"Sshhh," I admonished, placing my index finger over his swollen lips to still them. "Let me do the work."

I placed my lips gently upon his before moving them to one side of his face, then the other. I made sure they were mere feathers on his bruised flesh. My fingers were silk ribbons, gentle and caressing, as I slowly undressed him and then myself. I allowed them to be firm only with his growing erection, stroking him to readiness before swinging one leg over his body and lowering myself upon him.

We both sighed with satisfaction at the feel of him entering me. I pushed myself slowly down upon him, easing his thick length deep inside until my thighs met the warmth of his. His hands wandered over my body as I rode him at a leisurely pace, pushing down until he filled me completely before releasing him and beginning again.

My moans became louder with each thrust of my hips against his, and he bucked upward to meet me with equal fervor, his gasps and groans matching mine as our pace quickened. I pressed my body into his, loving the hot silk of his skin on mine as his arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer.

I grasped his hair more firmly, and he nuzzled the undamaged side of his face against mine, his hot fingers gripping my ass while he thrust harder and harder into me. Passion had its way with us then, obliterating careful restraint as our bodies gave in to the insistent rhythm of lust.

But when our eyes met through the blur of skin and sweat and the swinging locks of my hair, I saw so much more. I saw the truth. Or maybe I just saw what I always wanted to see.

"You love me," I gasped as I tightened all around him, clinging, coming.

His gentle fingers gripped my skull, holding my face to his, willing the mirror of my love to reflect back into his gaze as my body unraveled all around him.

"What gave it away?" he murmured with my beloved crooked grin as he rocked into me, still working toward his own release. My answering laugh was short, swallowed by the intensity of the moment. I circled my arms around his neck and held him close while his cock plunged up, up, up until I felt a second wave of tightness constrict my belly deep within.

"You're going to come for me again," he rasped, his voice registering both appreciation and wonder. "Just one of the many things I love about you."

I could muster only a moan in response, too swept away by the burning between my thighs and the passion in Edward's face. His brows furrowed, his breathing quickened, his cock throbbed into my burning flesh. I watched as his eyes squeezed shut just before I felt his sweet explosion, bathing me inside with liquid heat as his gasping breaths warmed my face.

The burn within me ignited and my body became a dancing flame, crackling with bursts of energy around him. I clutched him closer, trying to still the trembling that shook me, but it was no use. My ecstasy repeated itself, stronger and more insistent this time, wringing soft cries from my throat as it had its way with me.

"Fuck, I love the way you come," he growled into my ear, and my fingers grasped his thick hair in response.

"And I love the way you curse at me," I replied between panting breaths. "Makes me know you really feel it."

He chuckled, his hot breath in my ear sending now-familiar but still effective shockwaves down my spine. "I'm such a romantic," he joked.

"You are," I sighed as my body began to relax. "A dirty-talking, perverted romantic, but a romantic nonetheless."

"Much like yourself, Miss Swan," he said with a devilish grin.

"I learned from the master."

"So you've said. But I refuse to take full responsibility. I think I just bring out something that was inside you all along." He was still grinning as he nuzzled my face once more. His breath was warm and soothing now.

"I think you may be right," I said quietly, pressing my lips to his temple.

"Mmm," he murmured into my cheek. "This is how yesterday should have ended."

I nodded my agreement. "Still, I'm glad everything's out in the open now," I said. I didn't add that I wished he had trusted me enough to reveal the truth on his own.

"I was a coward," he admitted. "I should have told you sooner. I can't tell you how sorry I am for that."

"Remember what I said about apologies?"

It was his turn to nod. We sat still awhile longer, enveloped in our usual post-coital glow. As much as I hated to tear myself away from him, the realization that I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet, let alone showered, began to creep and crawl over me.

"It's my turn to apologize, anyway. You must love me to put up with my morning breath this long," I said with a grimace.

"Bella, I think we're far beyond that kind of superficiality," he said dismissively.

"Well, I'm still not beyond common courtesy. You're all nice and clean and I'm . . . " I trailed off with a shudder of distaste.

"Delicious," he asserted, burying his nose in my neck. "You have no idea how good you smell to me. Your hair . . . your skin. . ." He inhaled deeply for emphasis.

I sighed contentedly and breathed his own heady scent into my lungs. "I feel the same way about you. But please, for my own sanity, you have to let me go shower."

He chuckled and eased his grip on me. "Fine. Don't take too long."

"I won't," I promised. "When I come back, I'll make you some lunch."

"Then definitely hurry. I can come help, if that will speed things up." He waggled his eyebrow suggestively.

"I'm pretty sure that would have the opposite effect." I gave him a warning look as I disentangled myself from his embrace. I hated how cold and naked I felt after I pulled myself away from the warmth of his body. His face also registered disappointment at first; then his gaze turned admiring as it lingered over me before I turned and hurried to the bathroom.

I brushed my teeth and showered quickly, anxious to get back to Edward. I donned the thick terry bathrobe he kept on a hook behind the door, then rummaged through his medicine cabinet until I found his prescription for Tylenol 3. I grabbed the bottle and took it back out to the couch, where he lay reading a classic rock magazine.

"Quiz," he announced as I approached. "What was the name of the club where the Beatles and the Stones first saw Jimi Hendrix play?"

I didn't miss a beat. "The Marquee Club in London, January of 1967. Here, take two of these immediately." I shoved the prescription bottle at him.

"God, I love you," he said appreciatively at my knowledge of musical trivia. His smile faded as he took the bottle from me. "I don't need these, Bella. I feel fine."

"You don't know how much you tossed and turned last night, and how much you moaned in your sleep," I argued. "You were in pain."

His frown turned to a resigned pout. "I'm sorry I kept you awake."

"Apologies . . ." I reminded him with a clucking noise. "You can make it up to me by taking some medicine."

His half-smile was more of an annoyed curl of the lip. "Remind me again why I like your bossy side. . . ?"

"Because it's always right. You'll thank me later."

"I'll be asleep later," he groused. "Codeine knocks me out."

"You'll heal faster that way."

He emitted a dubious-sounding grunt and reached for his coffee cup. I leaned down and gave him a quick kiss before heading to his bedroom to change into the clothes I had worn sailing the day before. Then I made my way to the kitchen, where I discovered that Edward had almost none of the necessary ingredients to make soup.

"Do you have any broth or bouillon?" I called to him.

I could hear his snort all the way across the room. "Open the second cupboard, middle shelf," he directed me.

When I complied, I was met with the sight of several cans of Campbell's ready-to-eat soup. I laughed in spite of myself. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," I told him.

He grinned but didn't leave his perch on the sofa. "Soup for bachelors. I'm used to it."

I shrugged and chose the chicken noodle variety, then warmed it in a pan while I fixed a grilled cheese sandwich. Edward peppered me with more music-related questions, which I answered with little effort. After I correctly identified the person for whom Robert Plant had written the lyrics to "All My Love," Edward jumped off the couch and loped over to the stove.

"Marry me," he said in my ear, wrapping his arms around me.

I ignored the pins and needles dancing down my spine and answered, "If I had known all it took was canned soup and grilled cheese to get you to commit, I wouldn't have bothered with the home-made stuff."

"Right. You're the commitment-phobe," he accused playfully. He gave me a quick kiss before getting serving dishes and silverware out of the cabinets.

"That's not true," I said in quiet denial. "If I ever hear a proper proposal, I'll give you a proper answer."

I glanced at him in time to see one eyebrow raise in contemplation at me. He said nothing as we settled down to eat lunch at the bar. In fact, he was unusually quiet while we ate. By the end of the meal, he was yawning profusely.

"Guess you were right about the codeine," I said with a grin. I reached over and gave his neck a gentle squeeze. He eyed me with sleepy irritation.

"I told you so." His childlike response made my grin deepen.

"Why don't you go take a nap? I'll clean up," I offered.

"Fine," he agreed grumpily. "I'll be a zombie the rest of the afternoon. Are you happy now?"

"If it helps you relax and heal, then the answer is 'yes.'"

"Harrumph." He gave me a cross look before hopping off the bar stool and disappearing to his bedroom.

I soon found that I was grateful for a little time to myself. I was in a contemplative mood as I washed up the dishes. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't more relieved now that the riddle of Edward's past had been solved. Or had it? Maybe the uncertainty was what worried me as I nervously scrubbed every bit of his kitchen until it gleamed spotlessly.

No matter what Edward said about not loving Tanya the way he did me, the truth was, he did love her at one time. He loved her enough to stick by her through some very tough times. And when she killed herself, the trauma of how she did it derailed his education. He switched careers entirely because of her.

Even though my rational side told me that whatever they had was long ago and couldn't touch us now, an irrational streak of jealousy still ran through me. I hated the thought that Edward had shared the kind of closeness we have with someone else. And I was more convinced than ever that the bond he'd had with Tanya was much stronger than the one I'd shared briefly with Mike.

I tried to dispel my pointless fears by working my way around the rest of the loft. I found myself tidying up every corner of its considerable space while Edward napped, even though I can usually think of a dozen things I'd rather do than clean. I even fluffed and turned over the couch cushions, first in the living room and then the music room.

That's when I found the notebook.

It was stuffed in between the arm and the far left seat cushion, just haphazardly enough that I didn't know whether it fell in or was shoved there on purpose.

I didn't want to pry, but I couldn't help but wonder if this was where Edward kept his song lyrics. He still hadn't written down the words to "Bella Notte" for me, and I was desperate to have them.

I slowly opened the black leather cover and peeked at the top of the first page. What I saw there made my breath catch in my throat.

_Dear Tanya._

I stared at the name, trying not to look at the message below it. Edward's words to his deceased girlfriend were none of my business. And truthfully, I wasn't sure I wanted to read them anyway.

I raised my eyes to the date at the top of the page instead. December 15 . . . nearly three years ago. Right after Tanya died. With trembling fingers I flipped the pages back to find the last entry.

It was dated yesterday.

I slammed the notebook shut. My heart sank and my stomach roiled as I stared down at it. Suddenly my formless fears had substance and shape. I literally held the considerable weight of them in my hands. I knew what I would find if I scanned the volume's numerous pages. After all, I have a computer hard drive full of sentiments I can never send to you, Mom.

I thumbed gingerly through the sheets of paper just long enough to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, each entry began with her name, or addressed her in some way. I closed the cover quickly before I was tempted to read any more. I didn't want to invade Edward's privacy like that, no matter how much my curiosity begged me to do it. Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to know why he wrote to her all these years. I desperately wanted to believe it was only guilt tying him to the past, but the pages I held in my hands taunted me with possibility of so much more.

"Whatcha got there?"

I jumped at the sound of Edward's voice behind me, teasing and innocent though it was. When I turned so that he could see the notebook in my grip, his smile faded.

"I didn't read any of it," I blurted instantly. "I found it in the sofa. I thought that maybe it was for song lyrics, but . . ." My voice faltered as our eyes carried on the rest of the conversation.

"There are song lyrics in there," he said at last, though he still looked guilty, even ashamed.

"Like I said, I didn't read it," I reiterated softly.

"I don't mind if you do. Go ahead." His tone was unconvincing.

I frowned and shook my head. "I wouldn't do that to you."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm not keeping any more secrets from you."

I nodded in acknowledgement, but was still uneasy. I didn't believe he really wanted me to read the letters, any more than I wanted to see whatever sentiments the pages in my hands contained.

"I told you I do the same with my mom. I write to her all the time," I reminded him. "Because I love her and miss her so much."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, dead silence fell. I hadn't meant them as an accusation, or even a question. But I knew now that I wanted - _needed _- an answer.

Edward's denial was swift. "That's not why I wrote to her," he said, a tad too defensively for my liking. "You have to believe that."

I held the notebook out to him, but he was slow to take it. His eyes were pleading.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," I whispered.

"It's not the same," he insisted, finally taking the book from my hands. "The reasons I wrote to her were not the reasons you write to your mother."

"No, they probably weren't," I conceded quietly. "She was my mom. My caretaker, my best friend. Tanya was your lover."

Edward stared at me in stone silence for a moment, his eyes filled with incredulous dismay. He shook his head in frustration, then shook the black-covered tome at me.

"Read it, Bella. Read it and you'll see. Since the day I met you, every entry in this journal has been about you. And that's all this is - a journal. All those letters to her were only a pretense. They were really letters to myself, trying to figure out how to get past everything. Trying to find some peace."

I didn't reach for the notebook. I remained still, just looking at him. I wanted to understand the desperation in his eyes.

"Did it work?" I asked him pointedly.

His face fell. Asking the dead for forgiveness was a fool's errand, and we both knew it. My mother's death was unrelated to my relationship with Edward, other than my injuries being the catalyst that eventually led me to him. But the suicide of Edward's first real girlfriend had directly affected his relationship with the next. Her specter still hung over us like a watchful moon, waxing and waning, but never truly gone.

I wanted her gone. The question was, did Edward?

When I realized what I was about to say to him, my gut churned.

"You said that you tried to convince Tanya to see someone. To get some help with her problems," I began tentatively. I didn't need to finish the thought. Edward's face darkened at the implication.

"You think I need to see a shrink," he stated. He tossed the journal in the direction of the couch, never taking his disillusioned eyes from mine.

"Not necessarily," I answered hastily. "Maybe just a grief counselor or something. I'm just afraid that this -" I motioned to the notebook where it lay on the couch - "is bigger than me. Bigger than the both of us."

"You're wrong. Nothing is bigger than us." Edward shook his head in denial. "Besides, I tried counseling. It didn't do one fucking bit of good."

"But maybe it will now," I persisted. "Now that you're in a better place. Now that you have a reason to let go of the past once and for all. At least, I hope you do," I added uncertainly.

"Of course I do. I am letting go of it. Last night was a huge step for me, whether you know it or not."

"Then take the next one. Don't stop now," I implored.

His face twisted in pain and frustration. He looked like he was fighting back tears, or maybe angry words. I hated feeling like I was giving him an ultimatum, but I had to know that Tanya's ghost wasn't going to come between us any longer. I had to be sure that he was willing to let her go.

"You told her that you felt like you couldn't help her - that it was beyond your capability," I reminded him. "Well, that's kind of how I'm feeling right now. I just think it would help you to talk to someone completely objective, who can help you sort out why you've held onto the guilt for so long. Look how many pages you filled trying to be your own therapist, and where did it get you?"

He was definitely fighting back tears now, and so was I. I knew this was not what he wanted to hear. It broke my heart to say the words. But I knew I couldn't go forward with him until he was able to move forward himself.

"I told you I'd do anything for you," he said, his voice tight. "If that's what you need, then I'll do it."

"I think it's what _you_ need. I want you to do it for yourself. You need closure."

"I need you." His words were strangled; his eyes, pleading. I grabbed both his hands in mine and squeezed them tightly.

"You have me. Don't ever doubt that. But right now, I think you need more. I think you need something I don't know how to give you. I don't know how to make you forgive yourself, or stop begging a ghost for absolution."

"You should know better than anyone else exactly why I did it. You still write to your mother. You haven't let that go." But his accusation was half-hearted. We both knew how different that was from being bound to the memory of someone whose final act was designed to tie him to her forever with tethers of guilt and recrimination.

"I'll never let go of my mom completely because I'll never stop loving her," I said. My hands went limp in his. I swallowed hard and forced myself to voice my worst fears. "I know you love me. I just don't know how much you still love Tanya." Her name left an acrid taste in my mouth.

Edward's eyelids squeezed shut and his head shook slowly back and forth. He gripped my hands more tightly, forcing them to fight back. His expression was almost infuriated.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't love her? That I stopped loving her long ago?" He let go of my hands and clutched the sides of my face instead. "What do I have to do to prove to you that I love only you?"

I fought back tears of my own as I brought my hands to his, gentling his grip on me.

"I know you love me," I reiterated. "But love can't always fix everything."

The fury in his countenance finally won. "That's bullshit!" he exclaimed. He abruptly let go of my face and took a step back. "Love is all there is, Bella. It's the only thing that can fix _anything_. It's the only reason to even try."

"Then love yourself enough to try. Before you met me, you spent the past three years beating yourself up over what happened. So now that you finally got someone else to do it, you think that's the end of it? One punch in the face and you're completely over it?"

"I am over it!" he shot back vehemently. He turned away from me, gripping his head in his hands, his fingers raking roughly through his hair. He took several deep breaths, seeming to will himself to calm down.

When he turned to face me again, his words brimmed with unwilling resignation. "I don't blame you for doubting me. I brought it on myself by keeping things from you. I'll do whatever it takes to regain your trust. I'll call and make the appointment tomorrow."

His face was still twisted in bitterness, and I felt queasy. If he was this unhappy about the prospect of getting help, I didn't know how much good it would do.

"Please don't do this just for me," I begged quietly. "Please do it for yourself."

"I'm doing it for us," he said. His eyes grew apprehensive. "Assuming there still is an 'us.'"

"Of course there is," I asserted quickly.

But though we stood mere feet apart, the divide between us had never felt wider.

* * *

It was ten o'clock last night when I heard the front door bell, followed by a series of insistent knocks.

"Just a minute!" I hollered from my bedroom as I packed the last of my underwear and socks in my suitcase. I had left Edward's place shortly after our argument, claiming I had laundry to do before packing for my trip to Forks. He let my lame excuse slide. I figured maybe he was glad to be rid of me.

I worried all night that he was still upset with me for essentially forcing him to go into therapy. Had I done the right thing? I wasn't sure. I'd always thought counseling had helped me, yet I still had a breakdown of sorts the night I almost ran over Lucky. I was afraid that if Edward didn't deal with the emotional fallout of what had happened with Tanya, it would still rear its ugly head in some awful way that I could not predict.

I hurried to the front door and undid the safety chain. "Did you forget your keys?" I asked with a laugh, expecting to see Angela's face when I opened the door.

Instead I saw Edward's bruised, rain-soaked countenance staring down at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. He was staring at me with an intensity that shook me to my core. His lips quivered as if he wanted to say something as well, but only a shaky breath escaped. He took my face in his wet hands and drew me to him, kissing me fiercely. The dried blood on his lip was rough against my skin, but I opened my mouth to his insistent tongue and let it begin the familiar dance with mine.

Edward fell back against the door, shutting it and pulling me against him. My fingers were quick to bury themselves in his wet hair. It dripped on my forehead as he kissed me harder, whimpering with pain or need, I wasn't sure which. My own clothes became soaked next to his, but I knew it was no matter. He was already pushing them out of the way, his hands finding my skin beneath with hot assurance. I pulled at the damp flannel shirt covering him, and he let go of me long enough to free his arms of it before crushing me to him again.

Before I knew it, he was lifting me off the ground and my legs instinctively wrapped around him. He carried me back to my bedroom and fell with me upon the bed. We were reduced to a frantic tangle of wet fabric and warm skin as we writhed and groped at one another.

As soon as our clothes were removed and thrown in all directions, Edward was inside me. I gasped loudly as his thick cock impaled me, thrusting so hard and deep that my hands flew up to the headboard behind me to brace myself. His hands covered my own in seconds, fingers curling possessively around mine as he drove deep again. I cried out at the suddenness of his attack, surprised but not unwilling as he began drilling me with rhythmic precision.

The air was filled with nothing but my continued cries and his grunts as he plunged into me with the intensity of a pile driver. His eyes were wild, desperate, hungry, guilty . . . so many things at once that I could only stare up at him helplessly while he pinned me in place and fucked me senseless.

My body was beginning to stir in response, my insides squeezing us both to an impending climax, when he suddenly switched tactics. I gasped with shock again when he withdrew, moving his hands and ravaged lips down my body instead, stroking and tonguing me until my moans were as low and urgent as his own. Only when I felt his mouth between my legs, leaving a slick film in its wake, did I realize what he was about to do.

He rose up on his haunches and stared down at me, his expression alternately asking permission and demanding submission. I closed my eyes and waited for the last wall between us to be torn asunder.

The tip of his cock was not unwelcome against my back entrance. Warm and wet, it pushed its way slowly, ever so slowly inside, and I was ready for it.

At least, I thought I was. I still yelped in pain when its full girth stretched my opening beyond its previous limits. Edward stopped a moment, his fevered eyes registering momentary apology; but when my initial pain had subsided, he pushed on until I let out a long breath of relief. As before, pleasure had soon replaced pain, and I moaned softly in time with the slow, gentle rhythm he began.

It wasn't long before I grew used to the sensation of him filling me this way, and his pace increased, as did his groans of pleasure. I studied the grateful arousal in his eyes as he watched his cock disappear again and again in my ass, and I wondered why this somewhat taboo pleasure was such a turn-on for him. I had to admit that it was becoming a bit of a turn-on for me as well, though it wasn't as intensely pleasurable as regular sex was for me. I knew it would take me longer to find satisfaction this way.

As if reading my mind, Edward let one of his hands wander from its perch on my thigh down to my sex, stroking and fingering my clit while he continued to pump his cock deep inside my rectum. My body writhed in response, the combined sensations thrilling me in a whole new way. The fervor of Edward's movements increased, and the more I moaned, the faster he stroked and entered me.

When I reached up to run my hands over the planes of his torso and belly, he sighed with a shudder and fell into me, pressing his body against mine as his tempo increased. He was beyond control once more, thrusting into me with the same abandon he had before, but without the same results. My orgasm was elusive now that he had removed his hands from my clitoris, and while his body rose to a fever pitch of ecstasy, mine could only lag behind and enjoy his release.

His euphoria was short-lived when he realized that, for the first time, I had not met him at that pinnacle. The satisfied conqueror soon became the penitent thief.

His first words since he arrived were ones of trepidation.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered. He pulled out, but didn't pull away.

"No. You were amazing."

"You didn't come." His face was stricken.

"I would have," I assured him quickly. "It was just taking me a little longer, that's all."

"Why didn't you stop me?"

I smiled gently. "I didn't want to." I couldn't find the words to tell him how fiercely beautiful his passion was to me.

He shook his head in bewilderment. "I would have waited for you."

"I didn't want you to wait. If I had, you would have known it."

I reached up and wiped the sweat and rain from his face. He stroked my hair and gently kissed me. His eyes were filled with conflicting emotions again, and they darted all over my face, looking for an outlet. His lips found mine again, and yet again, perhaps trying to wordlessly express feelings that were too complex, too deep, to verbalize.

I had no energy for words myself. I held him while he buried his face in my neck and curled himself like a fetus around me.

"Please let me stay with you tonight," he murmured.

"There's nowhere else I'd want you to be," I answered truthfully.

I waited until he was asleep before I gently withdrew from his embrace and went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was a little sore, but perversely, I liked the sensation.

When I returned to the warmth of Edward's arms, I covered his bruises with tiny kisses before I fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Bella."

The whisper of Edward's velvet voice woke me from my slumber this morning. I smiled and opened my eyes to the gorgeous sight of him grinning down at me.

"Thanks," I said. I stretched and began to prop myself up on my elbows.

"No, don't get up. You deserve to sleep in. I want you to get your rest before you have to drive all afternoon."

"You're too good to me," I protested sleepily.

"I wish that were true," was his characteristic reply.

I sighed and reached up to trace the purple stain that still sullied his perfect skin.

"Your face looks a little better."

"It feels a little better," he conceded.

"You'll have fun explaining this to your clients today."

"I think the knuckle-shaped bruises will do the talking for me," he said ruefully.

My eyes swept over his lithe form leaning over me. He was already dressed and ready to leave for work.

"I'll miss you," I murmured, running my fingers over his healing bottom lip.

His hand stroked my face, mimicking my movements. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to make you believe in me again," he promised.

"I never stopped believing in you. I just want you to believe in yourself."

His lips pursed slightly in doubt, but he nodded. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath warm on my skin.

"I love you."

"Drive safely. Promise you'll call me the minute you get to Forks," he ordered.

I smiled at the over-protective Edward I know and love. "I promise."

The twist of his sad smile and the gait of his long legs were the last things I saw as he closed the bedroom door behind him. I reached for the pillow he'd slept on and pulled it close, burying my face in its musk. Breathing his scent in deeply, I fell asleep again.

I was unconscious until mid-morning. The blanket of gray smothering the sky had been ineffectual at waking me. I lay still for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that the weather matched my mood. It seemed apropos for my birthday. A dark cloud descended over September thirteenth when I lost you the next day.

I dragged myself out of bed and was trudging in the direction of the bathroom when something caught the corner of my eye. I started violently when I turned and saw a strange head-like shape protruding over the back of the sofa. My relief was profound when I finally realized what it was: the top of a guitar case.

I padded across the hardwood floor to the rug in front of the couch. Propped up at one end was a very new, yet very familiar guitar case, wrapped in an enormous red bow.

"Oh no, you didn't," I whispered to myself, since Edward was nowhere near. A small ivory card with my name written on it was tucked under the bow. I pulled the card out, my fingers shaking for no good reason as I removed it from its envelope.

The antique cream-colored paper was embossed with an ornate treble clef sign and musical notes on the front. The card was blank, save for Edward's elegant scrawl inside: _This belongs to you more than it ever did to me. I know you can make it sing. Happy Birthday, Bella. I love you. Edward._

My eyes were already brimming with tears as I opened the snaps of the guitar case and let the lid fall open against the back of the couch. Even though I knew what I would see, I still let out a tiny gasp as the dull gray morning light glinted softly off the glossy wood of Edward's - now _my_ - Martin acoustic guitar.

I carefully pulled the instrument from its container, teary-eyed and grinning like a loon at Edward's thoughtfulness and generosity. As I strummed my fingers along the perfectly-tuned strings, the wonderful memories of that guitar replayed in my head. The night Edward performed the song he'd written just for me; the next day when he taught me how to play it myself. I blinked back the moisture in my eyes so that I could find the proper frets to form some chords. The progression I played was the beginning of my song; _our_ song. I had practiced what I could remember of it, but he still hadn't given me any sheet music for his composition.

That's when I caught sight of something else in the bottom of the guitar case. Another ribbon, pale blue this time, was tied loosely around several large pieces of paper that matched the ivory of the card Edward had given me. I leaned down and grasped the pages, sliding them out of their silky tie. They were bound on one side by fabric tape. The cover contained only a few words, in Edward's signature script:

_For Bella, the light that leads me out of my darkness. I will love you always. Edward._

When I opened the bound pages, my tears fell freely. There, written in Edward's meticulous hand, were the entire guitar tablature, melody line and lyrics to "Bella Notte." I sat with a thud on the sofa, re-reading every word he had written to me in that song. In light of what I now knew, his words touched me more deeply than I had ever thought possible. They broke my heart, then healed it, in the space of two verses and choruses.

Once I had managed to pull myself together, I searched for my phone and called Edward. A text message wasn't enough this time. I got his voice mail, and I gushed my heartfelt thanks in broken, sniveling words.

"Edward, this is so beautiful. The best birthday present I've ever gotten. You are too good to me, no matter what you say." I paused and added, "Just be good to yourself now. Please. I'll be back before you know it. I love you. So much."

Tears pricked at my eyes again. Even though I truly believed Edward and I needed this break from each other, I knew that getting in my truck and leaving him behind, even for a week, would be the hardest thing I'd done in a long time.

When I packed up my rusty old truck for the trip to Forks, I included my new guitar. I figured I'll have plenty of time to practice in the coming week. If Edward thinks I can make it sing, then I intend to do just that.

He's not the only one who has something to prove.


	47. Texts

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You are amazing and I am thankful for each and every one of you. **

**Thanks to Steph M. for coming up with characters that are so much fun to bend and shape like Silly Putty. And thanks to the actors who play them for bringing them to life. **

* * *

_**Text Messages**_

**Monday, September 13**

_**12:25 p.m.**_

Edward: Just got your voice mail. Wish I could talk to you in person but I know you're driving. So glad you liked the birthday present. When I thought about what you'd really like, the guitar and sheet music was the best idea I could come up with. Drive carefully and remember to let me know when you get to your Dad's. Love you.

_**2:41 p.m.**_

Bella: Damn, we keep missing each other. I'm at a truck stop in BF Egypt, filling up the gas-guzzler. I think old Red gets negative miles to the gallon. The present was perfect. I promise you, I WILL make that guitar sing. Eventually. ;-)

_**4:57 p.m.**_

E: I know you will. It's later - you should be in Forks by now. Please let me know when you get there safely.

_**5:20 p.m.**_

B: I'm here. No problems on the road. How is your jaw?

E: Hurts like hell. It's good for me. I'm glad your trip was uneventful. I love you.

B: Put ice on it again and take those pills your dad gave you. I love you, too.

_**11:03 p.m.**_

E: Can't sleep. Keep thinking about last night. I know you hate apologies, but I owe you one. Coming to your place and forcing myself on you like that was inexcusable, no matter how freaked out I was about the thought of losing you. As if pounding you into the headboard was going to keep you from leaving my sorry ass. I wouldn't blame you if you did.

B: You know I won't. I love you. I knew what was going on with you. I pushed you into getting therapy; you pushed back. I would have stopped you if I'd wanted to. P.S. I'll let you in on a little secret - I like being pounded into the headboard. By you, anyway.

E: Hate to tell you, but that's not much of a secret. I may be oblivious to some things, but recognizing what turns you on isn't one of them. The difference last night was that I didn't pay attention. I was selfish. I took without giving. I'll never do that to you again.

B: Apology accepted. But I don't accept the idea that you'll never give me a good pounding again. In fact, I demand that you do. Just let me catch up next time.

E: That is definitely something I can agree to. I look forward to it. So when is it that you're coming back to Seattle?

B: LOL Not sure. As much as I miss you, I think you and I both need this time apart. Just to think. Figure things out. I do, anyway.

E: I know. You're right. Do what you need to do. I promise to do the same.

B: Love you. Good night.

E: Sweet dreams, Bella.

**Tuesday, September 14**

_**7:45 a.m.**_

E: Can't stop thinking about you. I know what a hard day this will be for you. Call me if you need to talk. Hope you and your dad are doing okay.

_**2:13 p.m.**_

B: Sorry I didn't answer earlier. I was up and out in the wilderness at the ass-crack o' dawn, believe it or not. Charlie wanted to take me fishing. It was kind of nice. Peaceful. Kept our minds off of things. We actually caught a few trout, so looks like I'll be cooking tonight. Didn't have any phone service out there to answer you 'til now. Don't worry, the day is going okay. Gonna call Phil in a bit and see how he's doing. Thanks for checking up on me. You're the best.

_**2:55 p.m.**_

E: I'll always check up on you. Glad you and your dad are spending some quality time together. Makes me think I should do the same w/mine. I told him about the other night and let him check out my face, so you and Alice should be happy. He gave me the name of a good psychotherapist, BTW. I have an app't. with her Thursday afternoon. Wish me luck.

B: You won't need luck. I know you hate doing this, but I have a strong feeling that you'll be glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn't have pushed you so much.

E: I know. I'm getting used to the idea. It'll be a good thing, I think. You can say 'I told you so' later.

B: I don't need to. Just let me know how it goes. Good, bad or ugly, I want to know.

E: You'll be the first to hear about it. Hate to go but my next client is here.

B: Go heal - it's what you do best.

E: Guess we'll soon find out.

**Wednesday, September 15**

_**11:22 p.m.**_

E: Just got back from Billy's. Jazz and I did a little open mic action. Went well. Crowd was good. No tomatoes. NGL, Imma li'l drunk right now. Miss you. Bad. Why does whiskey make it worse? What are you wearing? Shit. Sorry. Meant to say, How was your day?

B: LOL Glad to see you're just a "li'l" drunk. Sorry I missed you and Jasper - you know how much I love hearing you sing. Been practicing on the Martin all day long. I'm going to make you proud one of these days.

E: You make me proud every day. And grateful. I don't know why the hell you put up with me.

B: Stop it. That self-deprecation is something you should ask the therapist about tomorrow.

E: Don't remind me. And BTW you should do that yourself. Makes me nuts when you get all insecure and think I won't be satisfied with you or that I still love my dead ex-girlfriend. You need to get over that shit. If you could see inside my mind you'd know how consumed I am with thoughts of you. All hours of the day and night. If that's crazy, I don't care. Call me certifiable. I love you. I need you. I want you. Only you. Now tell me what you're wearing for fuck's sake.

B: Wow. Remind me to get you to this exact level of intoxication next time we're together. I'm wearing the same tank top and pajama pants I always wear to bed. Now go jerk off like a good, horny boy and then sleep it off. Don't you have clients in the morning?

E: Just a couple. Then I have app'ts. Very Important Appointments. Getting-My-Shit-Together-For-Bella Appointments.

B: You mean for Edward.

E: Fine. For both of us. I won't apologize for doing it for you, too. Everything I do is at least partly for you. I'm hanging up now before I start spouting bad Bryan Adams songs.

B: LOL God, I love you. When you're whacking off tonight, imagine my mouth on you. Licking . . . Sucking . . . Swallowing. Deep. Sweet dreams, sexy man.

E: Fuck. Me. How long does it take to drive to Forks? I'm ready to get in the car right now.

B: You're drunk as hell. Go to bed. That's an order.

E: I love Bossy Bella.

B: I know.

**Thursday, September 16**

_**6:30 p.m.**_

B: Haven't heard from you yet. Must admit I'm a little nervous. Please tell me how everything went with the therapist. How are you?

E: Okay. Or at least, I will be. Sorry I didn't call or text. Have a lot going on in my head right now. Trying to sort out my thoughts. When I do, you'll hear from me, I promise.

B: Okay. You're scaring me a little. Was it that bad?

E: Yes, and no. In the grand scheme of things, it was good. Just . . . difficult. But I expected it to be.

B: I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do. Please call me if you want to talk.

E: I will. I guess I'm the one who needs some time now.

B: Fair enough. I'll be here when you need me.

E: I always need you. Don't ever doubt that.

B: Goes both ways. Only three days and I miss you like crazy.

E: Only takes me about three hours.

B: I know. Me too. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Don't know how many more contemplative walks in the woods I can take. It's too green here. Gives me the creeps.

E: LOL My nature girl. A little self-analysis goes a long way, doesn't it?

B: Yeah. It's hard, but worth it.

E: You're right, I know. Perspective, and all that.

B: Right. I'll let you know when I'm coming home. Tomorrow night I'm meeting up with a few old classmates who are still here in Forks.

E: Really? Anyone I should worry about? Mike Newton, perhaps?

B: *snort!* No. And even if he were here, he'd be nothing for you to worry about. You know that.

E: Yeah, I know. We both need to work on being more secure in our relationship.

B: You're right, we do. Guess the therapist is doing her job.

E: So far, so good. I promise I'll tell you all about it as soon as I get my head together.

B: No hurry. I'm not going anywhere, honest. Forks isn't that far. I'll be back soon. I miss you too much not to.

E: Ditto. But I'm glad you did what you had to do. I think I'm ready to do the same.

B: Good. I love you, Edward.

E: I love you, too. That's one thing I don't need a shrink to help me figure out.

B: :-)

E: Back atcha, baby.

**Saturday, September 18**

_**1:57 a.m.**_

B: Wee! My turn for drunk texts. Fuck I think the booze is stronger here than in Seatlte. Is that possible?

E: I don't think so. Unless some asshole slipped something in your drink. Who were you with?

B: Eh, no one you know. Couple guys, Eric and Tyler and this bitch Lauren. She was a bitch in HS and she's still a bitch. But even she wouldn't slip sumthin in my dink. Drink. Shit. LOLOL No, I just had too much. Dumb drunking games. You know I cant play sports. Even bar sports. Fucking lose every tine.

E: LOL Oh, my sweet girl. You are not going to be well tomorrow. Wish I was there to hold your hair back when you vomit, then make you greasy hash browns in the morning.

B: Oh I already barfed once at the bar. Not prety. Made it to the toilet tho at least. Missed you all night. You shoulda seen the lozers in this place. Had to get drunk just to look at 'em. Guh that's mean! I'm so spoiled. You're sexy as fuck. You know your the sexiest fucker I've ever seen with my actual eyes who wasn't like on a movie screen somewhere. Fuck. I miss you. Picturing you naked now. Plz tell me you'r naked.

E: Christ. I'm about to be. It's not right that your drunk texts make me this hot. I see my swearing has been a bad influence on you. Even if I was there, it would be wrong to fuck you when you're this drunk. But now that's all I can think about.

B: Mm Im thinking about it too. I'm lying face down on the bed . . . imagining you fucking me from behind. God that wuld feel so good right now. I'd get up on my hands and knees so you could push that cock aaalll the way in and fuck me deep and hard like I like it.

E: Christ almighty. You're trying to kill me, aren't you?

B: Yes. If I have to be drink and horny an frustrated, you can at least be furstrated with me.

E: Oh baby. That's a given right now. Will be until you come back. When are you coming back?

B: Um mebbe Sunday? Think tomorrow I might not feel so god.

E: I think you may be right. Now it's my turn to tell you to sleep it off while I go beat off again.

B: Ill be beating off w/you.

E: I think you'll be passed out, but I appreciate the solidarity.

B: No relly I will. Soon as I shut this phon. Fuck these buttins are tiny. Cnt see so good.

E: LOL Good night, Bella. Try to take some aspirin right now with a big glass of water.

E: Bella?

E: Oh, honey. I'll be thinking of you tomorrow when you're in hangover hell. I love you. Good night.

_**2:41 p.m.**_

E: Okay, it's mid-afternoon and I still haven't heard from you. Please just text me "Hi" so I know you're alive.

B: "Hi." Barely. Death would be a sweet release.

E: Sorry you're so sick. Why the hell did you get so drunk without me around?

B: Because there was nothing better to do. No one to stop me.

E: Bad reasons. Imagine me giving you a nice neck massage . . . There. Does your head feel better?

B: No. Imaginary massage is futile. Need the real thing.

E: I can be there in a few hours.

B: No. I'd die if you saw me this way. I smell like the bottom of a beer cask.

E: Now you know why I slunk away from your place that first morning. Shame and self-loathing in Seattle.

B: Now in Forks.

E: Right. I'll let you get your rest. Feel better, sweet Bella.

B: Thanks. Maybe tomorrow.

E: Definitely tomorrow.

**Sunday, September 19**

_**4:02 p.m.**_

B: I just read your letter. Well, it came in the mail yesterday, but I was so sick that Charlie didn't bother me. Then he went and forgot to give it to me until just now, the doofus. Edward . . . I don't even know what to say. No, that's not true. I have a million things I want to say to you, but not like this. It has to be in person. I would have left Forks today if I'd gotten your letter sooner. I'll call you as soon as I get there tomorrow. I can't wait to see you. I love you more than words could possibly express.

E: I can't wait to see you, either. I never knew a week could drag by so slowly. Next time I'm coming with you.

B: There won't be a next time. I'll never leave you behind again.


	48. Letters

**No notes from me this time. I think I'll just let this one speak for itself.**

**Thanks to everyone reviewing, favoriting and alerting my story. I am forever humbled that you take the time to read my words.**

* * *

_**From the Desktop of Bella Swan**_

**Sunday, September 19**

I forgot how relentlessly green Forks is.

Every day I've been here this week, I've realized more and more why you needed to leave, Mom. It's peaceful and tranquil, and the natives seem to like it. Dad has settled nicely into his niche here, and he's content. But within a few days, the flora-filled atmosphere somehow went from soothing to oppressive. Maybe it's because the quiet and solitude gave me more than enough time to mull things over in my head. Too much time.

Maybe it's because I miss Edward so much that my heart hurts.

All I know is that I can't wait to leave tomorrow. I love Charlie and I'll miss him, but I've decided he's coming to Seattle the next time he wants to see me, even if I have to come here and forcibly drag him back with me.

The fishing trip with him Tuesday was good, and Wednesday I helped him do some chores around the house; but I think we were both relieved when he went back to work Thursday and Friday. Problem is, that left me with a lot of time on my hands. I practiced playing my new guitar until my fingers hurt; then I took lots of walks and did lots of thinking. But no matter what my head comes up with, my heart still holds fast to two things: I love Edward no matter what; and I love my job at Java Noise enough to try to work things out with Rose.

As long as she's in Emmett's life and I'm in Edward's, we're stuck with each other. We had a good working relationship before her paranoia got the best of her, so I'm hopeful that we can rebuild it. I was actually relieved to get a voicemail from her Friday afternoon while I was out for one of my strolls.

"Bella, I'm so sorry to bother you while you're on vacation, but I have looked everywhere and I can_not_ find that press kit for Leo Clifton. You remember that big, hairy dude who looks like he spent three years in a Himalayan cave? Well, Mark saw him perform last week and was really impressed with the guy. I know we have his demo somewhere. If you remember where it is, please give me a call back.

"Hope you're having a good vacation. I was thinking about you a lot earlier this week - I know how hard those days must have been for you. We all miss you here. Talk to you soon."

I was actually grateful to have an opportunity to be useful, so I called her back as soon as I got home and discovered her message.

"The press kit is in my holding file, bottom right drawer of my desk," I told her when she picked up. "That's where I keep all the pending acts - the ones we're seriously considering."

"Thanks! You're a life saver." I heard her rummaging until she let out an exclamation of victory. "How is it I've never known this is where you keep the hot commodities? I need to pay more attention, obviously. But I never would have looked in your desk without asking you first, anyway. I learned my lesson there," she added contritely.

"That's okay. Obviously you need to have access to all the files. It's just the top desk drawer that I got a little upset about. It's okay. I mean, you did have a point about everything in that office being Java property."

"Well, I crossed the line and we both know it. But I really do want to try to earn your trust again, if you'll let me. We want you back. _I_ want you back. I need your ear! I can't tell you how many times I've turned to ask your opinion on something and you weren't there. I've missed you."

"Wow," I said, a bit surprised. Rosalie had never been so open or so complimentary before. "That's nice to hear. I've kind of missed the activity, too. And the music. It's so quiet here."

"So . . . that means you're coming back next week?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I think so. Would Tuesday be all right?"

"Tuesday would be great." Rose sounded relieved. "I was afraid you were going to give your notice. Can't say I would have blamed you."

"I thought about it, to be honest," I admitted. "But I love my job there, and I believe in the company. I've always liked the philosophy at Java. It's more about the integrity of the music and the artists than making money."

"True. Though I prefer to strike a profitable balance where that's concerned," she answered with a laugh. "Well, I'd better get this file down to Mark. I'll see you next week. And Bella . . . thanks."

Her last words carried more weight than the rest. I could tell she was thanking me for my effort to forgive and forget rather than helping her find a file.

"You're welcome," I told her, in the same knowing tone.

As I hung up the phone, I felt like a weight had been lifted. I never realized what heavy burdens grudges were until I let one go.

That night, I let the weightlessness get to me a bit. I met up with Eric, Tyler and Lauren. Angela will be interested to know that Eric asked me lots of questions about her. He always had a thing for her in high school but never acted on it, so Ben beat him to the punch. Eric was surprised, and I think a bit disappointed, to hear that Ange and Ben are still together.

I was surprised myself to see that Tyler and Lauren were still an item, and in fact, were engaged to be married. I was also feeling guiltily smug that Lauren had put on a considerable amount of weight since high school. The guilt went away as soon as I realized that she was as snobby as ever, regardless of the fact that her beauty queen days were far behind her. She still acted like she was the hottest girl in town. But I soon realized that I was content to let her enjoy being the biggest and brightest fish in her tiny pond. I'd be heading back to the ocean I loved soon enough.

So, I decided to relax, drink and be merry. I joined them in their drinking games, to disastrous results. The drunker I got, the more I missed Edward; and the more I missed him, the more I drank.

We hadn't talked all week. It seemed to be a literally unspoken agreement between us: that we would take this time to be on our own, to work on ourselves; so we had only sent text messages to one another. The sound of his voice haunted me. Amidst the noise of the bar, I kept imagining his velvet tones in my ear, his breath on my neck, his whispered tremors shivering down my spine.

His phantom voice guided me all the way home. I could practically hear him telling me which way to go as I drunkenly maneuvered my behemoth of a truck down the back streets of Forks. As soon as I sneaked past Charlie's room where he lay snoring, I fell on my bed in a stupor and began texting Edward.

I groaned with embarrassment when I read the messages back the next afternoon. It took me a good twenty-four hours to stop vomiting in between bouts of fitful sleep, while Charlie gave me disapproving looks and then harangued me for driving drunk the night before. I finally choked down some toast last night, then spent a few hours practicing the guitar again before passing out once more.

Today Charlie and I went fishing again, but with Jake's dad, Billy Black, this time. Billy asked me all kinds of questions about The Wolf Pack's progress. Jake had filled him in, but he liked hearing about their prospects from someone on the business end of things. It was strange to be that person - the one sounding like an authority on something, while talking to my dad and the father of one of my old friends. It was the first time I realized I wasn't really a kid anymore. I felt like one of the adults instead.

It was late in the day and I was helping Charlie clean the fish we'd caught when he remembered the letter. Edward had written to me, old-school style, and sent it via snail mail to Forks. Dad hadn't bothered to give me the letter while I was heaving all day long yesterday, but I wish he had. I would have made different plans for today.

But maybe it's better this way. I've come up with the perfect reunion for Edward and me, I think. I've already called Emmett to help me put my plan in motion. Edward will be so surprised. I have a big, stupid grin on my face just thinking about it.

In the meantime, I can't stop reading his letter. Every time it hits me as hard as the first. See for yourself:

_Thursday, September 16_

_Dear Bella,_

_I know I told you that I needed time to get my thoughts together before I told you about my appointment today. But the truth is, writing them down is the way I've always sorted them out and made sense of them. I think - no, I know - you do the same. So I hoped you wouldn't mind a letter from me while I attempt to figure things out._

_I've written to you every day this week. Since the moment you left, I've known that you are the only person I want to write to anymore. So I went and bought a new notebook after work on Monday. It's nice, a real journal, with a white cover. I'm sure the shrink would tell me that my color choice was symbolic. I'm sure it probably was. New beginnings, clean slate and all that. _

_But I decided to send this letter, because I want you to have it right now. I want you to know what's been going on in my head. No more secrets, no more withholding. No more testing you to see what it will take to make you turn your back on me, thus "proving" to myself that I never deserved you to begin with. I've been very good at creating self-fulfilling prophecies the past few years._

_That's just one thing the shrink made me see. I think you'd like her. She's older, probably sixty-ish, with these eyes that crinkle up like walnuts when she smiles. She looks like someone who's smiled a lot in her life, and I like that. She's warm and easy to talk to, kind of like my Aunt Jeanne was._

_Even so, I was surprised at what happened when I met with her today. She had a cancellation after my appointment, so she let me stay there for two hours. I say "let me" because I was on some kind of crazy roll, talking my fool head off. So strange for me, the guy who's so good at bottling everything up inside. But this time, everything came spilling out. What happened with Tanya and how much I let it derail my life. How I resented my parents, especially my dad, for their efforts to keep that from happening. Because if I had picked up the pieces and continued on the career path I had intended, it would have been like Tanya never happened, and I couldn't allow that. Wallowing in the past and letting it ruin my life it was the only punishment I had for my perceived crimes._

_She never left a suicide note. Never blamed me for anything, nor forgave me for anything. She left no answers to my myriad questions "why?" So I answered them myself, or tried to. All those letters to her were just my way of trying to get answers that I can never have. Creating any kind of scenario more complex than the cause-and-effect finality of me telling her I didn't care if she killed herself, and her going ahead with the deed. I was trying to be my own confessor, jury, judge, priest . . . you name it. I waged war on myself daily. And when you're waging both sides of the battle, self against self, you can never truly win or lose. Never move on from the battlefield and just find peace._

_I stayed there because I thought that was all I deserved - a purgatory of my own making, suitable for someone who'd be as callous and unthinking as I was the day I said those words to her. Like many a prisoner, I became accustomed to the captivity. It became the norm. I sought no conscious release from it._

_At least that's what I always thought. But Norma - that's the therapist - pointed out that it was no accident I went into massage therapy. I know that's true. It was an easier path than getting my undergrad degree and then going to med school, but it would still allow me to heal people. And I figured out long ago that my desire to help others was mostly a futile stab at making up for the person I'd driven to destruction. _

_But what I never realized was that I was subverting that healing from myself onto them. I still kept my old wounds festering close to the surface without even realizing it. Outwardly, I appeared to move on. I came out of isolation after a few months, went to massage therapy school, and befriended Kate. She was "safe," non-threatening, because she would never want more from me than friendship. She got me socializing more, and so did Jasper, taking me to clubs and urging me to join him onstage. _

_Before I knew it, I was back in a familiar groove, not that different from the one I was in before I met Tanya. I only dated women casually, never letting anyone inside. Because right there under the surface still lurked every ounce of pain and guilt I'd ever had over Tanya's suicide. I picked at those wounds in secret every night, in the pages of that black notebook, never letting them heal. Making sure they held me tightly in that cocoon of carefully-concealed self-loathing. I didn't deserve to move on from that. I didn't want to._

_And then I met you. I'll never forget the day I first saw you, your pale skin gleaming in the glow from my desk lamp. I felt something I hadn't felt in so long. I didn't know why at the time. But when I touched you, I knew that there was as much pain inside you, right beneath that perfect porcelain, as I carried under my own skin. I was enthralled. And I was terrified. _

_It only got worse the more I got to know you. The things you said in our first few meetings let me know just how much you and I had in common. I held you at bay because I knew that connecting with you would mean moving beyond my self-imposed prison . . . letting myself out of the cage, giving up the fight. I knew you were my empathy and my freedom and my salvation. _

_And this whole time, I've never felt like I deserved to be saved._

_I know how angry everyone was that I didn't press charges against Tanya's father, but I also suspect you know exactly why I didn't. He finally took my punishment out of my hands. I'll never be able to describe what a relief it was to feel his fist slam into my face - to have someone besides me place the blame squarely atop my shoulders and then knock it sideways. The catharsis I felt from that was the first taste of freedom I'd truly allowed myself, and the first time I began to fight back, at least in my mind, against the accusation that everything was all my fault._

_But the downside, of course, was what it did to you. I hate how I made you suffer by being a coward and not confessing everything to you earlier. The second I began to let go of the guilt over Tanya, I felt it attack me over my failings with you instead. It had happened before that, too. The night I tried to goad you into hitting me, into being my punisher. The times I pushed our sexual boundaries and demanded more of you than I had any right to. They were designed, subconsciously at the time, to provoke you into telling me what an asshole I am, so that I would be justified in my self-loathing and self-blame._

_But you never did that. You never let me sabotage myself that way. I know you never will. You see through me - no, _into_ me - like no one ever has before. I knew all along that you would. And I knew just how badly I needed that. Needed _you_. Part of me was ready to accept it; to accept you and your love. The other part was determined to keep myself in that cage of my own making and make sure that I continued to suffer for my sins._

_I suspect that you've already figured all of this out. That you've seen it, or at least sensed it, all along. Before I delved this deep into myself, I was sure that you were the one who needed me. I was so focused on the idea of "fixing" you - your body, your soul - that I didn't recognize just how much I was getting out of the deal. That's not such a bad thing. You finally made me selfless for once in my life. I've never wanted anything as much as I've wanted you to be healthy and happy and whole again._

_But I know you were afraid that if I didn't look inside and see all the stuff that's been going on there, it would come back to haunt us both. It broke my heart when you found my journal. Not because I was afraid of what you might read there, but because that old insecurity was back in your eyes - the self-doubt I thought I'd helped you get over. I've never been able to understand why you don't see the beauty in yourself that I see in you. It baffles me still. But then I realized that maybe that's how you see me, too, so maybe I should start believing it. Believing that I'm worthy of your love. Worthy of forgiveness for past mistakes - not just your forgiveness, but my own._

_So that's what I'm working on now. Norma says I was already well on the way to making a lot of these breakthroughs on my own, especially after what happened with Tanya's father. Those last weeks leading up to your birthday were like a ticking time-bomb. I had given myself a deadline to tell you everything, but Donnelly literally beat me to the punch. That old adage "everything happens for a reason" seemed to hold true that day. An act of violence wrenched my cage door open, but I'm counting on you to take my hand and help lead me out of it. _

_I took the first step, or maybe the second, after I left Norma's office. I went to the Admissions office at the University of Washington and picked up a course catalog. I've decided that I'm going to get my undergraduate degree, even if it takes me two more years of night school while I work to do it. I don't know if I'll go on to med school or not - I haven't thought that far ahead. But finally finishing what I started seven years ago seems like a good beginning._

_As for the therapy, I'm going to see Norma every Thursday afternoon for awhile. She thinks it would be a good idea for both of us to visit her together some time. I told her I'd run it by you. Maybe she can help us really let go of all the old misplaced guilt instead of just giving it lip service. Maybe only time can really make that happen, but I still think that you and I can help each other more than anyone else ever could. We already have. There was definitely a reason that you came into my life when you did. I'll be grateful for that - for you - every day of my existence._

_I'm tearing these pages out of the new notebook to send to you, but the rest of my letters are here for you to read when you get back. This isn't just my own journal I'm starting. I want it to be ours, to tell each other anything we might be thinking or feeling, no matter how awkward. Maybe that's weird, wanting to share something like that with you. Diaries are supposed to be personal. But now that I've let you in to the darkest corners of my soul, I don't mind the light shining on them anymore. Because with the light came warmth, and love. _

_Bella, your love is the best gift I've ever received. I want to cherish it, and return it, with everything I have. No holding back any part of me anymore. What's mine is yours. All you have to do now is claim it._

_Forever yours,_

_Edward_

Can you believe him, Mom? What guy has thoughts like this, and then sits down and wrestles them onto paper? I never knew it was possible for anyone to touch my heart the way he has. I literally ache for him, like part of me is missing while we're apart. I don't even know if it's healthy or normal. I guess if I visit the therapist with Edward, we can find out together.

But I don't care, really. All I know is that I love Edward with everything I have in me, and I'm hanging on to him - to us - until my dying breath.

This is where the difficult part comes in, because I've made a decision.

This is the last letter I'm writing to you.

Of course, I'll still mutter to you whenever things are going wrong, and imagine you smiling down on me when everything's great. But it's time for me to stop turning to you to get me through the ups and downs of life. After all, if Edward is being brave enough to give up his crutch and count on me instead, then I need to step up and do the same.

"Need" is the wrong word. I _want_ to. I'm ready. You're my past and my foundation; the amazing woman who made me what I am today. I'll always love you more than words can say, for being the best mom, and friend, a girl could ever ask for. And I'll always wish that Fate could have written a different ending for us, so that you could have been with me decades longer.

But now it's time for me to embrace my present and my future, and I know without question that they lie with Edward. There's a new journal waiting for me, with tons of blank pages ready to be filled with a new story - Edward's and mine. I know that wherever you are, you're excited for me. And you're always welcome to read over my shoulder.

I won't say good-bye . . . just _au revoir_. Until we see each other again.

I love you, Mom.

~Bella


	49. Reunion

**The usual thanks apply - to Stephenie Meyer for creating the fictional world we so love to plunder; to the actors for bringing that world to life; and to anyone who enjoys the world I created from the wreckage.**

**Special thanks to everyone taking the time to read, alert, favorite, and/or review this story. As most of you know, I answer all reviews whenever possible. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it freaks you out to have me comment on all your comments. (?) I figure that if you have taken the time to read my words and respond to them, the very least I can do is thank you for doing so. If I'm ever fortunate enough to receive so many reviews that I'm unable to answer them all, I may have to rethink that policy. But until that unlikely event occurs, I'll continue to say "thanks" in person whenever I can. To those of you who are anonymous or have PMs disabled, please accept my appreciation here for leaving me feedback. It really does mean the world to me.**

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_**The Diary of Bella and Edward**_

**Monday, September 20**

_Aw, that's sweet that you put my name before yours, Edward._

Ladies first, always. You know I'm a gentleman.

_But only when necessary, thank God._

I thought you liked gentlemen.

_I do. But I happen to be very fond of your un-gentlemanly behavior, when you choose to unleash it. It does decadent things to my girly bits. _

Mm . . . so I've noticed. Stop distracting me - I have very important events to record here. I'll do things to your girly bits later.

_Is that a promise? Okay, okay. So exactly how does this shared journal thing work, anyway? Do we take turns writing entries? Or do we divide each page down the middle so we can make comments on what the other has written?_

That sounds equitable. Let's divide it down the middle. Or how about I take the left-hand pages and you take the right?

_Okay, sure. But what happened to "ladies first?"_

I'm calling dibs this time because I want to write about your surprise for me today. That's the kind of thing I need to describe in detail for posterity. Although I'm certain I'll never forget how I felt when I walked into that room and saw you there.

_It was a good surprise, wasn't it?_

The best. But before we get ahead of ourselves, I need to backtrack a bit. Are you hungry? You're welcome to anything in my kitchen while I write. This could take awhile.

_Is that your way of asking me to make us some dinner? You know, this would go a lot faster if we kept a cyber diary instead. Typing is a lot quicker than writing long-hand. Join me in the twenty-first century, Edward. _

I like the physicality of writing the old-fashioned way - the feel of the notebook on my lap, the paper under my hands, the pen between my fingers. You should be happy that I'm such a tactile person. It has served you well, if I'm not mistaken.

_Indeed it has. And I must admit, you look very poetic and dashing scribbling away next to me while I look over your shoulder. But I'll leave you here on the couch for now and go make dinner with whatever you have in the kitchen that passes for food._

Hey, I went shopping when I knew you were coming home. You might be surprised.

_You always surprise me. In a really good way. So, you write about today, and I'll read it later and add my own comments. This could be fun._

It will be fun. That was a nice kiss you just gave me, by the way. I almost didn't let you off of the couch, except that I really am kind of hungry, for food this time. I wonder if you can feel my eyes on your ass while you walk away? Probably, since they're pretty much fixed there whenever you have your back to me.

God, I missed you here in the loft. I never minded the emptiness before you filled it. It's so cold when you're not here . . . vacant. Kind of like my soul was before you resurrected it. When you read the rest of the letters in here, you'll know. I don't care anymore that you'll see how needy I am. I know you need me, too. If I'd realized how much freedom there was in surrender, I would have given in to you completely long ago.

I have to hand it to you - I really didn't see your surprise coming today. I believed your texts, and I believed Emmett's ruse. Even Jessica was amazingly convincing as she lied right to my face. Should I be a little worried at how duplicitous all of you are capable of being? Of course, look at how I kept things from you for so long. Turnabout is fair play. And considering how much that turnabout was to my benefit, I'm pretty undeserving, no matter how much you'd probably like to argue that point.

In any case, I readily believed Emmett when he begged me to squeeze in a session with a new patient of his, even though he knew how anxious I was to leave work as soon as possible to meet you at your place. Jessica even went so far as to reschedule my last appointment of the day so that I could take off early. You should have seen the repentant look on her face when I sullenly asked her about my unexpected new client.

"Sorry, Edward. Emmett says this new girl has some major issues going on - muscles tight as a drum, pulling her spine all out of whack. Maybe you can just give her a quick relaxation massage today and then reschedule her some other time." Her last phrase sounded like a question, her sheepish grin looking more like a grimace.

"Yeah, Emmett already gave me that hangdog expression. It's fine. I've already waited a week - what's another hour?" I said with a resigned shrug.

"Well, just think how much sweeter your reunion will be the longer you have to wait for it. Right?" I should have questioned the giddy tone of her voice right then.

"Sure," I answered with a quick, forced smile. "So, do you have her patient file?"

"Emmett put it inside the door," Jessica replied smoothly.

"Okay." I began to walk down the hall toward the massage room when I caught her smug grin out of the corner of my eye.

"You look pleased with yourself," I noted, stopping briefly at the side of the counter. "Did you have a nice weekend? Did you see Jake, perhaps?" I added hopefully.

"I did, actually," she said, her face brightening. "He took me to this cool Mexican restaurant before he had a gig with the Pack. They're sounding fantastic, by the way. He says the recording is going great. And on the plus side, he didn't mention Bella once the entire evening." _- That's probably the same place he took me. He really needs to up his game and get more creative._

My grin matched her own. "I'd say that's a very big plus." Of course, you've been gone all week, but like Jessica, I choose to believe that maybe Jake's finally accepting reality and moving on from his fixation with you. If not, I'll help move him along forcibly, if necessary. _- I love it when you start in with the macho posturing and threats. That does things to my girly bits, too._

It always takes me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the ambient lighting in my massage room. I pushed my glasses up my nose, then reached for the patient file folder Jessica had deposited in its usual plastic holder on the wall inside the door. I wish I had a picture of the huge smile that engulfed my face when I opened the file and saw the name on the top of that patient information page. I knew what I would find when I looked over at the massage table, but I still felt a surge of emotion barrel through me at the sight.

There you were, lying face down on the mattress, your pale skin gleaming like amber-tinted alabaster in the glow of my desk lamp. I felt exactly the same as the day I first saw you there . . . strangely, inexplicably moved; and inexorably drawn to you.

Except now, there's nothing inexplicable about it. And I welcome your inexorable pull instead of fearing it. I relish the sway you have over me now. I live for it. I happily gave into its insistence as I slowly walked toward you and gazed down at your beautiful back.

I'm sure you heard my voice crack with emotion when I spoke. "What seems to be the trouble, Miss Swan?"

You spoke through the towel-wrapped donut hole, just as before. "Well, I've been having some issues that go way back to a car accident I was in six years ago. I thought that maybe you could help me. I hear you're the best."

I smiled and came to stand at the head of the table, looking down at those cascades of chestnut hair just like I did that day. When I touched your neck, it felt almost like the first time. Your skin prickled in goose bumps again and desire stirred deep within me. It was the same desire that's always been there, yet so much richer now, infused with love and respect and understanding.

"I don't know if I'm the best," I said dubiously. "But I promise to do my best for you. If I can make you feel whole again, that will be the best thing I'll ever accomplish."

My hands were on autopilot as I spoke, examining every inch of your ivory skin in search of any deficiency. I found few. And the ones I did find acquiesced to my touch in a way that made my satisfaction - for both you and me - soar. You are living proof of my worth.

"My entire life, I've never felt as whole as I have with you." Your words were mumbled through the donut hole, but they still sounded like angels singing to me. "Maybe if I'm lucky, I can return the favor someday."

I couldn't take any more after that. I'm sure you could hear how choked up I was. "You already have. You know that. In a way I thought would never be possible for me."

I pulled the flannel sheet over you and gently lifted you into a sitting position. You easily helped me along, which you never would have been able to do that first day without wincing from your lower back injury. And then you fixed those chocolate eyes on me for the first time in a week, and I felt the melancholy of those days disappear in an instant.

"Edward, that letter . . ." You were shaking your head; I tried to still the motion by placing my hands on either side of your face. "I don't even know where to begin. How to tell you what those words meant to me. How I wish I hadn't left you here to go through all that alone."

"But I had to do it alone," I interrupted you. "You knew that. You knew that taking a step back would make me take a step forward. I needed the push. Or the pull. Whatever it is between us that forces me to be a better man."

Your hands were on my face then, too; warm and cradling and possessing. "You were already a good man without me. I wish you'd acknowledge that."

"But I like who I am with you so much better. You freed me from that cage, in so many ways . . ." I trailed off, remembering how you brought me out of myself without even trying. Without me even realizing it. "Here I am, the therapist, being healed by his patient." My smile felt both wry and grateful.

"We healed each other." I drank in your smile, swam in the film of tears that gathered in your eyes. "I came to you for massage therapy and got so much more."

"A hell of lot more than you ever bargained for, I'm sure," I replied with a laugh, determined to make this a happy reunion for us.

Your laugh was short but genuine. "More than I ever hoped for."

"I know the feeling. I'd still be stuck in a hell of my own making if it weren't for you. Thank you for not giving up on me. For not letting me give up on myself."

"You know you don't need to thank me for that." Your fingers were in my hair then; my scalp tingled and begged for more. "I'd do anything for you."

I saw the truth in your eyes; felt it in your touch. "And you know I'd do the same for you."

A smile broke through your tears then. "You're going back to school!" I smiled and nodded a little sheepishly at your exclamation. "The fact that you're doing something for yourself means more to me than anything else you could do for me."

"Yeah, well, it feels like a way to finally complete that chapter of my life and be done with it. I mean, I have no idea if I'll end up even using that degree. You never know, I just might chuck the whole health care profession and join Jasper's band instead."

I saw your eyes light up a little at the idea, but your reply was diplomatic. "You know I'll support whatever decision you make."

I nodded and felt my grin spread. "There's a certain appeal in joining The Grade, you know. Just making music all day and night. There'd be a lot of satisfaction in that - reaching people in a different way. You always said music could save people. That it saved you."

"You know how much I believe that," you enthused. "And I could get you signed to Java and oversee your recording and marketing and distribution…."

I cut you off before you got carried away. "And then we could crash and burn like Rosalie and her first boyfriend when they tried to work together like that. Remember what I've always said about business and pleasure?"

Your expression was scoffing as your hands moved down my neck, thumbs over my collarbone, fingers under the collar of my lab coat. I watched my own hands stray over you the same way.

"Your insistence on not mixing business and pleasure is what caused us so much trouble in the first place," you reminded me. "If you had just allowed the two to co-exist peacefully, we never would have had all those misunderstandings."

"Maybe," I admitted. The sheet had begun to slip down, exposing your breasts, and the dusky pink protrusion of your nipples distracted me. "But back then I was unconsciously looking for excuses to fuck things up between us. If one method didn't do the trick, I would have found another."

"Or maybe you would have just given in to me." I watched as your fingers unbuttoned my shirt, one by one; felt the warm air and your even warmer touch ignite my skin with desire.

"I wanted to." My voice was growing huskier, my hands bolder. Your sigh was soft and maddening when I traced the tips of my fingers over your hardening nipples.

"Just think what could have happened the day that we both got ourselves off, a room away from each other, instead of giving in to what we both wanted," you said wistfully, seductively.

It was my turn to sigh as I trailed my fingers down your taut stomach, taking the sheet down with them. I stopped only when you reached up to push the lab coat off of me. I let my arms go limp until you had succeeded in making my jacket and shirt drop to the floor with a muffled thud.

"God, the thought of you lying here, touching yourself . . ." I stared down at you and imagined your fingers working yourself into a frenzy while you fantasized about me. I caught your eyes with mine and voiced my desire out loud.

"Show me. Right now. Show me what you did."

Even in the dim light, I could see the blood rush to your cheeks in my favorite cocktail of self-consciousness and lust. You bit your lip in that way that drives me crazy, then you lay back on the table and kicked the sheet down with your feet, your eyes locked with mine the entire time. But I soon felt my eyes stray down your body, and your hand followed, fingers smoothing over your belly, heading south. I think I stopped breathing for a minute as you pushed your fingers under the lace edge of your panties - tiny floral print today - and down, down, down until they forced a pleasurable sigh from your mouth.

"I'm sure I started like this," you said, moving your hand up and down rhythmically beneath the cotton panel, legs spreading and hips tilting upward. I glanced at the sultry gaze in your eyes before my attention was arrested by the movement of your body, undulating into the pressure of your fingers. "I'm sure I was imagining you doing this to me, touching me this way. And then, when I was good and wet, my fingers slid inside . . . deeper, and then deeper still . . . while I pretended they were your fingers. . . and then your cock."

Your voice was almost as hypnotic as the motion of your hand pushing the fabric of your panties down while you pleasured yourself. My dick was throbbing, but my eyes were frustrated. My hands obeyed their demands and I reached for the edge of your underwear, pulling the offending cotton down over your hips. I loved when you lifted your body so that I could pull the panties down and remove them altogether. I loved even more that you would let me watch you do this to yourself - shove the fingers of your right hand deep into your vagina while your left hand joined in and massaged your clit in perfect time.

The self-conscious girl I once knew never would have done this so freely; never would have trusted me enough to truly let go of her inhibitions. I'd thought I had banished her for good until I saw her lurking in your eyes last weekend when you found my journal. But watching you now, unashamed and free, I knew that I would not see her again. And that is one loss I will not lament.

I couldn't decide which I wanted more - to continue watching you do the all the work, or to jump in and do it myself. I compromised by unzipping my own pants and pushing them down, releasing my hard-on into my own waiting hands.

I'm not sure why it felt so intimate to do this together - to watch each other revel in our own auto-erotica without even touching each other. Yet our eyes were transfixed on each other's sex while our frantic hands brought moans to our hungry mouths. We hadn't even kissed yet, and at last I realized that my mouth was watering for yours, begging for the feel of your tongue tangling with mine.

I think I murmured something like "So fucking sexy" before I gave up and leaned over the head of the massage table, grabbing your face in my hands and covering your lips with mine. God, the taste of you after so long . . . Indescribable. I couldn't stop devouring your mouth with hungry kisses, and your desperation matched mine, which only made my crazier. My hands were all over you, one in your hair, the other caressing every part of your body I could reach, like a blind man finally granted permission to "see" his lover for the first time.

Your hands were just as hot and greedy on my skin, searing me and making me groan into your mouth. By the time you grasped my dick and began stroking it up and down, I was a panting mess, barely able to even kiss you. I felt like a teenager again, floored by the first touch of a girl's hand. I could feel you grinning into my mouth; relishing your power over me, using it to your advantage and mine as you pumped my shaft hard and fast. You showed my dick no mercy, knowing that it wanted none.

You know me so well - what I need, what I want; but most of all, what I don't even realize that I need and want. I always prided myself on having figured that out about you. I never stopped to consider that you'd figured out the same about me.

As our kiss disintegrated, you scooted around slightly so that your head was hanging slightly over the edge of the mattress. You looked up at me and I could see that your expression was provocative, even upside down. Your hand never stilled on my dick, gently yanking and pulling me in the direction of your mouth.

"Give me your cock. I want to taste you."

I vaguely hoped that Emmett and Jessica had vacated the building, because the groan I emitted was definitely loud enough to be heard in the next two rooms. My lust barely outweighed my awe as you tilted your head back and took me in your mouth. You were unable to really move your head in this position, so I withdrew, let you take a breath, and gently pushed into your mouth again, down your open and waiting throat. I felt it constrict around the tip of my cock, and I pulled out before you choked; but then the irresistible urge to gently push into that hot, wet entrance overtook me again.

"Fuck," I groaned, unable to produce any other coherent speech as I filled your mouth and watched your throat expand in the shape of my cock before I withdrew again. I'm still a little stunned that you took me in that way, over and over . . . let me bury myself so deep that your lips sucked the base of my cock before I pulled back again.

If it bothered you, you never let it show. Your hands gripped my hips and thighs; your tongue tickled my shaft with every thrust. If you choked, I pulled out. But I can't deny that the sensation of fucking your beautiful mouth was one of the most intense highs I've ever experienced. Not just the feel of it, but the trust you had in me not to hurt you. I was overwhelmed at the fact that you wanted to give me pleasure so much that you were willing to do something that might have been completely uncomfortable for you. _-Just so you know, it wasn't that bad. I felt kind of fierce, like a sword swallower in the circus. Getting you off gets me off. Surely you've figured that out along with all your other insights, right?_

Once I got into the careful rhythm of it, I couldn't keep my hands off of your body before me, naked and wanting. My fingers soon picked up where yours had left off, stroking and rubbing and then sliding inside you. I can't believe how much I missed that sweet pussy after only a week. I felt like the luckiest bastard in the world that you would let me invade you so completely, fingers plunging deep in one end while my dick plundered the other. But you seemed to welcome the invasion, your moans vibrating my cock until I thought I would lose it and ejaculate right down your throat.

But I didn't want it to end like that, so premature, in such a coarse way. Today deserved better than that.

I withdrew from you completely and eased your head back up on the flannel-covered mattress, turning you slightly so that I could drown in that Hershey's syrup looking up at me.

"God, you're incredible," I said before I leaned down and kissed you, not giving a damn about where your mouth had just been.

"So are you," you replied, shaking your head a little. "Do you have any sexual hang-ups at all?"

I thought for a moment. "I'm not really into pain, yours or mine. I guess that's my only boundary."

I loved that little Mona Lisa smile you gave me. "Works for me."

My lips found your throat and I nuzzled there a moment, but my imagination was restless.

"Do you remember that text message you sent me when you were drunk?" I whispered in her ear.

Your giggles stirred the hair at my temple and sent a hot shiver down my spine. "Vaguely."

"Allow me to refresh your memory, then. I believe you said you wanted me to fuck you from behind . . ." I stopped to plant several kisses along your neck. ". . . deep and hard, like you like it."

Your feigned shock was adorable. "That must have been the whiskey talking."

"I don't think so," I argued, letting my lips trail down your chest. "I think you were telling me exactly what you like. You said you wanted my cock aalll the way in." My thumb toyed with your left nipple while my tongue tickled your right, and I relished how it made you squirm and squeal a little. "I love it when we're on the same page."

I stood abruptly so that you'd scowl up at me until you saw that I was merely removing my clothes entirely, including shoes and socks. I climbed up on the mattress and lowered myself onto you, groaning at the feel of your body beneath mine, warm and soft and responsive. My mouth captured yours and I didn't want to let it go; my fingers entwined in your hair and held on for dear life. The feel of your skin, your lips, pressed to mine is the closest I'll ever get to heaven on earth, of that I'm sure.

I couldn't wait to enter you. Your legs were instantly open to me, your limbs already wrapping around me and holding me there. Our moans mingled into one when I slid my cock into that sweet heat, and I knew I wouldn't stop until we both came undone.

"What about the fucking from behind?" you murmured in my ear. You didn't seem eager to turn over any time soon, your hands gripping my shoulders and my back, your hips bucking forcefully upward with every thrust of my cock.

"Later," I managed to grunt hoarsely. "We have all night."

Your groan was guttural as I ground my hips into yours. "Thank God we do," you replied in between moans as our rhythm intensified.

I'm going to admit something to you right now, Bella. No matter how many gymnastic positions we attempt, or silly toys we play with to keep things interesting, I will never love anything as much as I love looking you right in the eyes, every inch of our bodies fused into one, when we come. Nothing will ever surpass that connection I feel with you when we're face to face, body to body, soul to soul; when you tighten all around me and possess me, and I surrender and explode inside you.

There is nothing I will ever need or want more than that. And I think I sensed it from the very beginning with us. It just took me awhile to stop playing by the rules - not just the ones imposed upon me, but the ones I made for myself. So today, when I finally ignored them and followed my heart instead, I felt another barrier fall away. Coming inside you on that massage table was one of the most oddly freeing things I've ever done. It was like acknowledging, once and for all, what is most important to me. Or whom, I should say.

It will always be you. You are my life now.

And speak of the angel, you're walking toward me right now. Something smells delicious in this loft, and I'm about to go see what it is. You can read this and add your own comments, or fill in the things I left out.

I love you, Bella. I'll say it every day, and I'll write it every day, so you never forget it.

_Wow. There's not much to add. (Although I couldn't resist a little peanut-gallery comment here and there, which you'll see when you look back at your entry.) _

_As always, your words astonish me, Edward. I don't know why I'm surprised, though. From the very beginning, I saw that depth in your eyes; that anguish and desperation; and that hope for something more. Something better. I wanted to really know you, like no one ever has before. I wanted to be the one to set you free. And now that I've actually helped you accomplish that, I know my own worth, too. _

_I'm watching you in the kitchen, sniffing under pot lids and peeking into the oven, and I'm absurdly, insanely attracted to you right now. It's like your mere existence makes me so high that I'd be happy to simply observe you from afar for the rest of my life. But trust me, I'm much happier when you let me share in your existence. _

_You are my life now, too. _

_And I'll tell you I love you, in words written and spoken, every day. That can be our troth to one another._

_Until we make an official one, that is. And make no mistake, regardless of what I've said in the past about marriage, I will require some sort of formal commitment if you hope to ever have the slightest chance of keeping me barefoot and pregnant. _

_With that, I'm off to check on dinner. You look happy enough with it, and that's enough for me. Here, you take the journal while I go stir. Love you._

I knew it! I knew you wanted to have my babies. *picture my smug, self-satisfied mug here*

That can wait awhile, though. We have a lot of living to do before then. That's why I bought such a big diary for us. I know we'll fill these pages in the blink of an eye.

This is just the beginning for us, Bella. And I intend to savor every minute of it.

* * *

**A/N: Hang on, we're almost to the finish line. Epilogue coming soon...**


	50. Farewell

**I can't believe I've come to the end of this story. When I began writing it in July of 2010, I certainly never imagined it would grow so long and take me a year and a half to complete. It was a labor of love, though; one I'll miss now that I'm marking this story "complete." I only hope that all of you who have made it this far have enjoyed the journey as much as I did. Your loyalty and support means the world to me.**

**I won't single out the wonderful friends and readers who have helped me so much during this process: given me feedback, caught my typos, and talked me down from the ledge when I needed it. You all know who you are. And if you don't, I'll remind you when I answer your reviews or Tweet you or email you. I truly couldn't have done it without you - I am forever in your debt. Thank you and bless you all.**

* * *

Saturday, December 11

Dear Tanya,

It feels strange to be writing to you now after all this time. It's been nearly three months now since I stopped. But Dr. Brennan thinks that I should write you one last time and give you my final farewell. It's part of my therapy - symbolic more than anything else at this point, but she thinks it's important. Maybe it is. She hasn't steered me wrong so far.

I wish I had known about her when you were still alive. If I had ever gone to Dad for help back then, I might have. But no, I was almost as stubborn as you were. We were both so hell-bent on being independent and doing everything ourselves, the last thing we ever wanted to do was turn to our parents. I can't help but think that if you had seen the right kind of psychotherapist - someone as patient and kind and clear-headed as Norma - you might still be around.

I spent years and reams of paper turning those kinds of "what-ifs" over and over in my mind. If only you had done this; if only I hadn't done that. I addressed all those vain conjectures to you as if you could somehow change what happened, or at least explain it. I knew all along that the dead tell no tales. In truth, many of those "letters" had nothing to do with you, and I'm sure you know that. That was especially true after I met Bella. My journal was just an attempt to make sense of my life after you turned it upside down.

I know now that there are events fate throws at you that you can never make sense of. All you can do is pray for the strength to deal with them, and hope that you have good people around you to help you get through them.

I wish you had felt like you had that in your life. You did, you know. Even though I didn't love you the way you wanted me too, I did want to help you. I would have been there for you if I had only known how. I can't tell you how sorry I am for the last words I said to you. You know that if I could take them back, I would. Wherever you are, I hope you can see that I didn't mean them. I was angry and frustrated and I said things to purposely hurt you. We both did that night, and so many nights before that.

Looking back, I realize how young and immature I was. I was as ill-equipped to handle your mental and emotional issues as you were. I wish I had turned to my father for help, but I was too proud. And when you did turn to your father, he was too proud to admit you had a problem. I wish he could have seen the truth before it was too late. I feel for him, I really do. He's living in a personal hell of his own making. He blames me because he can't shoulder his share of the responsibility in what happened to you. And the truth is, we were all culpable. We all made mistakes. Now we have to live with the consequences.

I guess the difference now is that I've decided to stop making myself pay for those mistakes. I don't know if I can fully forgive myself for my part in your death, but I can't continue to take sole responsibility for it. I used to think that if I did, the punishment would be enough to finally assuage my guilt. I never wanted to listen to Alice when she reminded me that you had free will, and I couldn't have stopped you from exercising it. And I never wanted to hear it when my father told me I was throwing my life away along with yours after I quit school. But they were both right. Wishing you had been in a better frame of mind won't bring you back, and putting my own life on hold won't, either.

Bella hit the nail on the head when she said that the mental illness took your life. When she uttered those words, I realized that I was finally ready to put the blame squarely where it belonged - on a disease. Not on me, or your father; not even on you. We were all victims. I'll never stop wishing we could have gotten you the right kind of help before things got so bad. But wishing won't make it so, and beating myself up over it won't accomplish anything except to waste another life. I don't know how much I have to offer the world, but I'd like to think I can make a difference somewhere, to someone.

You made a difference to me. I want you to know that. I still remember the good times, you know . . . when you were vibrant and full of life and fun and mischief. I wouldn't change any of what we shared. I'm grateful for all of it, even the bad stuff. I don't regret you, or us. You mattered to me, and I hope you knew that when you were alive. I hope you know it now.

And even though I couldn't save your life, I made a difference in Bella's, of that much I'm sure. When she came to Emmett and me for help, her issues were more severe than I ever imagined. I didn't know if we would be able to "fix" her, but I wanted more than anything to rise to that challenge. I knew my life had purpose when I worked on her. Of course, I didn't find out until later why I was so drawn to her, and why she affected me so deeply. But I was filled with the conviction that I was put here on this earth to save her after I failed so miserably with you. What I didn't know then was that she was meant to save me, too.

I wish I could have done that for you. Or that you had stuck around long enough to find the person who would be to you what Bella is to me, and I to her. All I can do now is to live my life more consciously, and be the kind of man in the present that I wish I could have been in the past. It's the only way I know how to honor you now that it's too late to ever truly make amends.

I'm still not sure what I believe of heaven and hell, or whatever lies between. I know that Bella believes her mother is in heaven, keeping watch over her. If there is some kind of afterlife or alternate world we go to after we die, then I hope you can see how I've tried to change as of late. I think that would make you happier than me punishing myself over and over for my shortcomings with you. You already know how sorry I am, and how impotent and angry and frustrated I felt for so long. The time finally arrived for me to let it all go. Not to forget - I'll never forget. But to forgive - myself, you, our doomed situation.

I stopped writing to you when I realized I was ready to move on. I have moved on. I hope you don't begrudge me that. I lived in my self-imposed prison for so long that I hardly know what to do with my freedom now. I've tried to put it to good use. I've registered for the spring semester at U-Dub, still majoring in pre-med. I'll be working part-time as a massage therapist, then taking afternoon and evening classes. I know it's going to be hard work, but I'm ready for it. I'm ready for my next challenge.

I won't be alone at UW next year. Alice decided that being closer to Jasper was as important to her as her career, so she's transferring next semester and completing grad school here in Seattle. She had considered doing that anyway because of their pediatrics program, so her decision didn't come as much of a surprise to me. I know how she feels about Jazz, so this is a win-win for her. For Jasper, too. He's a man of few words, but I could see how much he missed my sister while she was away. Can't say I blame him. I would never be able to withstand any lengthy separation from Bella.

She and I are pretty inseparable these days. She still has her own career, of course, and it's thriving. The Wolf Pack just finished recording and are playing bigger venues around Seattle; their CD is due out in the new year. And Vegan Vamps are in the middle of a nationwide tour, promoting their first CD. Bella and Rosalie have managed to iron things out, for the most part. We all have to co-exist peacefully since Emmett is so gone on Rose. To be fair, she's pretty enamored of my brother, too. Sometimes opposites attract. One thing I've learned is that love is unpredictable, and it usually hits you when and where you least expect it.

I certainly wasn't looking for Bella when she walked into my massage room that day six months ago. I fought her with every fiber of my being at first. I wasn't ready to change; wasn't willing to let go of the past and welcome someone new into my life. Someone who actually mattered - someone I'd want to invest in again.

But now I can't imagine my life without her. I miss her when she's not around, and I know she misses me, too. She tells me so all the time, in our diary. Weird, I know - the two of us keeping a shared journal like that. But it's been a surprisingly good thing. We write mostly when the other isn't around, but then we're free to read each other's entries later. Sometimes it's easier to put things in writing than to say them to each other's faces.

You'd think that would be a great way to start fights, wouldn't you? That we'd carelessly put something down in print in the heat of the moment and then regret it later. But it's actually had the opposite effect. We feel better when we get things off our chest, and later we often laugh about our grievances after we've had time to cool off. We don't fight much, anyway. And when we do, it's always about little things. Bella's constantly rearranging my kitchen and then I never know where anything is, on the rare occasions I actually want to fix myself some food. And she always acts annoyed when I want to have sex in the morning, because she says I make her late to work. Granted, she does have a little further to drive to the office than I do. But I don't really believe her protests because she's as turned on by wake-up sex as I am, despite her claims that she's not a morning person.

I guess I shouldn't be telling you these things, should I? I've strayed far from the point of this letter. Or maybe I haven't, really. Because one of the things I wanted you to know is that I'm happy now. Bella and I make each other happy in a way that you and I never did, and never could have.

I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm just stating that what you wanted from me was something I never could have given you, regardless of your bipolar disorder. I truly wish you could have seen that there was so much left for you here in this world - a whole life beyond me, beyond us. I'd give anything for you to have lived long enough to discover that like I have. I wish you hadn't sold yourself short. But I've learned that selling myself short in penance is no solution; no way to live.

And that's what I want to do now. Live. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and be happy for me. Even when I was furious with you, I wished you only the best. I still do. I pray that you've found the peace that always eluded you when you were alive. If Bella's right, and there is a heaven, then maybe you've found it and you're in a much better place now. I hope that's true.

Maybe you can meet up with Bella's mom and watch over us tonight. Bella's going to perform for the first time ever, at an open mic night at Billy's. She's not doing it alone, though - we're going to do a duet together, the song that I wrote for her. Alice just got back home yesterday, so the whole gang is going to be there to support us. I'm really excited about it, because I know Bella will do great.

She's mildly terrified, of course, even though I reassure her at least once an hour that she's going to be fine. We've rehearsed so much that I think we could perform this thing in our sleep. But I know all too well about pre-performance jitters, so I'm trying to be the strong, calm one this time for her sake. I like it when she relies on me. Responsibility doesn't freak me out like it used to. Guess I really am growing up.

Maybe it's too much to ask you to witness my life finally moving forward without you. I suppose it is. But I like to think that if you had gotten the help you needed, you and I could have been friends eventually. Or at least not enemies. I never wished you ill, and deep down I know you never did me, either. So now that the moment has arrived for us to part ways for good, and I'd like to make it an amicable split. I hope your spirit is as willing as mine is.

My mom's friend Tom is taking me out on the Sound tomorrow for a short trip on his boat. You and I both know what tomorrow is - the blackest anniversary I'll ever know. It'll be three years to the day since I found you in that bathtub. But I hope to lessen its stain by taking this letter with me, reading it to you, and then casting it out over the water. Norma suggested that I do something symbolic - a "cleansing ritual," I think she called it - to end our chapter once and for all so that I'm fully free to commit to the next.

I'm ready now. I've been ready for awhile. Bella told me she never said good-bye to her mom; just farewell until it was time for them to meet again. And so I'll simply say "farewell" to you, Tanya, because I truly do wish you well. I hope that wherever you are, you can find it in your heart to do the same for me.

~Edward


	51. Images

**A/N: I must say, I've been overwhelmed at the number of requests I've had for outtakes or even a sequel to this story. I hadn't planned to write any further, but I never say never. And the voices keep speaking to me . . . those niggling little Edward and Bella voices. You'd think they'd want to be left alone now to enjoy their HEA!**

**This outtake grew out of the fact that I forgot a tidbit I had intended to include in chapter 49. I turned it into a quick peek at our blissful couple instead. Consider it a little Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Whatever-You-Celebrate gift to say "thanks" for being so awesome. :-)**

* * *

_**The Diary of Bella and Edward**_

**December 22**

_EDWARD. ANTHONY. CULLEN. _WHAT _are those things hanging on the bedroom wall? And who printed those pictures? If I find out a single soul saw those photographs besides you, I will mark you. You know I can do it. I've been growing out my fingernails so I can finger-pick my guitar better. You'd better have some answers for me before I finger-pick YOU._

_I'm going out to get some groceries so I can make those special cookies I told your mom I'd bring to their house for Christmas. I expect full disclosure when I come back._

* * *

ISABELLA. MARIE. SWAN. You know exactly what those "things" are. Those are incredibly artful, tasteful, nude photographs of my hauntingly gorgeous girlfriend. I actually planned them as an early Christmas present for you, so that you would finally see how beautiful you are. I think you secretly know, but you're too modest to admit it. I'm not interested in your false modesty. You are an incredibly sexy woman, and I want you to own it, the way you own me.

My dear, feel free to "mark" me anyway you like. I'm perfectly fine with the fact that my kitten has claws now. Go ahead and use them on me. Your idea of "finger-picking" holds all sorts of intriguing possibilities. I can always blame Lucky if anyone asks questions.

Hmm. Why do I get the feeling that we're going to have some fun tonight?

Shit, reading that you're at the grocery store just reminded me that I was supposed to pick up some wine to take to Mom and Dad's. I told Jazz I'd bring the beer to rehearsal tomorrow night, too. It's a peace offering for not accepting his offer to officially join The Grade. It's tempting, but let's be real. How the hell will I keep up my own grades next semester if I'm working on his?

Besides, I like making music with you better. Take that however you like.

I'm leaving for the liquor store now, and those photos had better still be hanging in the bedroom when I get back. I'm not taking them down. And before you sharpen your claws, no one saw your beautiful body but me. Well, okay, and Kate's girlfriend, Victoria. She's a graphic designer so she let me use her computer equipment to make the enlargements, and she helped me tweak the contrast and stuff. (She's jealous of me, just so you know. She thinks you're hot. See?) When the photos were printed, I matted and framed them myself.

Think about it, Bella: do you really believe I'd share you with anyone else? Let alone strangers in a photo kiosk?

Love you. See you in a few.

* * *

_Well, when you put it that way. . . You are a little on the jealous and possessive side. Just a smidge. Which I rather enjoy, by the way. So please don't change on my account._

_But if you expect me to believe that those pictures are a Christmas present for me, then you must think I'd buy swamp land in Florida from you, too. Those are clearly a Christmas present for YOU_.

_Okay, I'm sitting here in the bedroom now, studying the photographs, trying to view them objectively. The black and white is a nice touch. Sometimes I think those images barely resemble me. But then I see the look in my eyes, and it takes me right back to that night. The way you made me feel. . .so wanted, so desired. Beautiful. I _am_ beautiful, because your love makes me so. And that is the best gift you ever could have given me._

_I'll let the pictures be. For one thing, knowing you, they'll frequently put you in the mood for all sorts of kinky fuckery, and I'll be the lucky recipient. _

_For another, I know where you keep your camera. Maybe I'll take some pictures of my own, to hang on the opposite wall. Tit for tat, so to speak. I showed you my tits. Now it's your turn to flex your "tat" for me. *ahem*_

_There you are now. God, I love the rusty screech of that loft door swinging open - the sound of you coming home to me. I know, I know - if I moved in here permanently, I'd get to hear it all the time. Don't worry. If Ben gives Angela the sparkly little Christmas present that I think he will, then she and I might be giving up our apartment sooner than you hoped. _

_If - no, when - we move in together, then I hope for your sake that Charlie likes you. I still can't believe he's actually coming here to visit for Christmas, let alone spending it with us at your parents' house. He's obviously accepted that you and I are the real deal, and that's saying something._

_Enough parent talk. You and I _are_ going to have some fun tonight. I'll try to be careful with my claws, but since they are rather new to me, I can't make any promises. I suspect you'll like the feel of me digging in and hanging on for dear life, anyway. I do have a possessive streak of my own._

_No more written words tonight. I'm coming to claim you now in person._

* * *

**A/N: So...what do you all suppose that Edward and Bella got each other for Christmas? I honestly don't know. I did see a "Vintage Guitars" calendar at the mall last weekend and thought, "Aw, this would be a perfect gift from Bella to Edward to hang in the loft!" That's about the time I decided that perhaps I should step awa-a-ay from the fanfic writing for a bit. ;-)**


	52. Valentine

**The little Edward and Bella voices still talk to me sometimes . . . these particular incarnations do, anyway. I decided to write them down, for better or worse. **

**I think this update owes as much to Dr. Seuss as it does to Stephenie Meyer, but I'll let you be the judge. **

(Edward is regular type; Bella is italic type)

* * *

**The Diary of Bella and Edward  
**_**February 14**_

**6:45 a.m**.  
I can't believe you're making breakfast for me. Granted, it is Valentine's Day, and I did wake you early again with my amorous urges. I couldn't help it - must be the day. Or maybe it's just you.

Did you know your ass shakes in a really sexy way when you whisk eggs?

Yeah, it's just you. But Valentine's Day gives me a perfect excuse for fucking you awake today. Again.

God, you look so stinking cute with your hair going in twenty directions. I love doing that to you, of which you're well aware. But you have to admit, that position is the best. So deep . . . so good. And you're so surprisingly bendy that I can't help but push you to your limits. I know you'll push back if I go too far.

I live for it, in fact.

Wow - am I seeing heart-shaped pancakes on that griddle? You're amazing. Damn, I'm feeling inspired now.

A Valentine Poem for my Beloved Bella:

Roses are red,  
Violets are blue.  
You have frightful bed-head,  
But I still love you.

Your pancakes are rockin',  
Your eggs are divine.  
But as for the sausage,  
I'll just give you mine.

Sheer poetry, that. I'd write more but you've just informed me that breakfast is served.

It smells fantastic. If I forget to tell you later, it was delicious.

XOXO  
Edward

_Oh, that's it, Cullen. You did this to my hair, so you'd better damned will like it, especially after I made you a nice, hot breakfast. And it _was_ delicious, if I do say so myself; so thanks for the compliment. _

_Regardless, you'd better prepare yourself. My retaliation may not be swift, but that's only because I haven't had enough coffee yet. Rest assured that my phone and I will be sending a poetic rebuttal after I get to work._

_P.S. I'm only bendy in the morning because I'm not awake enough to stop you from turning me into a pretzel. But yeah . . . that thing you do, the way you do it . . . that's always good._

Better than good. There are no words for it, really. I seem to remember you being speechless as well.

I look forward to your hair-raising rebuttal. I'll be sure to set my text alert on vibrate. *grin*

* * *

_**Texts**_

**8:45 a.m.  
**_Okay, early riser (emphasis on that last word). I'm armed with a pot of coffee and a light work load. Let the poetic sexting begin._

_I have a boyfriend named Ed  
__Who won't let me get out of bed.  
__My hair is a fright  
_'_Cause he fucks me all night  
__With zero regard for my head._

**8:56 a.m.  
**You say that like it's a bad thing.

Dirty limericks, eh? My favorite kind. By all means, do keep them _up. _*snicker*

I shall endeavor to add another stanza to my poem from this morning. How's this:

With lips so pink  
And skin so fair,  
Your face nearly trumps  
Your hot derriere.

Sorry, baby. But your ass is slammin'. I'd rhyme on that but Prince already beat me to it.

**9:21 a.m.  
**_Prince actually said "Your body's slammin.'" Not just "ass." Although, considering his next line about ramming, he was probably thinking it._

_My boyfriend is almost as crude  
__As an animal in the zoo.  
__He thinks his big trunk  
__Is the best piece of junk  
__To ever come near my wazoo._

_Yes, he's impossibly lewd  
__And sometimes he's downright rude,  
__But he does me so right-  
__Makes me come every night-  
__That with him, sex is better than food._

_Well, hello there, Edward, Junior. I can feel you winking up at me from all the way across town. You've got a long day ahead of you. LONG._

**9:53 a.m**_.  
_Trying to wake the beast at 10 a.m., eh? Nice. Well, two can play that game.

My Bella, you're sweet  
Like nectar and honey.  
You give such good head,  
I should pay you money.

But that's not why  
I love you so.  
You're so much more  
Than an amazing blow.

Your heart is pure,  
Your love is strong;  
You satisfy more  
Than just my schlong.

You challenge me  
And make me think,  
And only occasionally  
Drive me to drink.

I crave you  
Morning, noon and night.  
Your vanilla skin  
Screams "Take a bite."

You smell so delicious,  
Nothing can compare  
To that tasty treat  
'Neath your underwear.

Beware, my pretty,  
When the workday is done,  
I'll bury my face  
'Twixt your legs 'til you come.

"Wazoo?" Is that the shy little orifice hiding behind your hoo-ha? I'm quite fond of that one, as I am all your orifices.

Damn. This is not helping my situation with Junior whatsoever.

**10:15 a.m.  
**"_Beast," eh? Junior does think highly of himself. And he definitely just proved the point of my last set of limericks._

_When it comes to you, Edward Cullen,  
__It's hard for me to stay sullen.  
__You're sexy and silly  
__And have such a big willy,  
__That head over heels I've fallen._

_I think it's a pretty safe bet  
__That you've made my panties all wet.  
__You'd better come find me,  
__Bend me over and grind me  
__While I'm as horny as I'll ever get._

_*grin*_

**10:52 a.m.  
**Fuck. Me.

I really must know-  
What time do you eat?  
I'm dying to give you  
A Valentine treat.

I think we both know  
What we're hungry for.  
If love be our food,  
I'll always need more.

**10:56 a.m.  
**_You say the most beautiful things  
__To make up for all your teasing.  
__I forget to be mad,  
__I just want you bad,  
__So meet me at noon for a fling._

**10:59 a.m.  
**There's no privacy there,  
So I'll make the way clear  
For you to leave Java Noise  
And "come" over here.  
;-)

**11:10 a.m.  
**_If I'd known you wanted a nooner,  
__I would have texted you sooner.  
__I just hope my boss  
__Doesn't get too cross-  
__Oh wait, it's just Rose, so screw her! _

**11:50 a.m**_.  
__Hip-hip, hooray!  
__I'm on my way  
__To mount that willy  
__And hump it silly.  
__See you in ten  
__To make you come again.  
__And again . . .  
__And . . . yeah._

**12:05 p.m.  
**Fuck. Me.

(I meant that the first time I texted it and I still do.)

I hear the front door-  
I'm ready for more.  
To hell with this phone,  
Now I've got you alone . . .

**12:59 p.m.  
**Now _that_ was poetry. Poetry in motion. Wish I had time for a cigarette. Wish you didn't have to leave so soon. But I love the view while you walk away, as long as I know you'll be back.

**1:20 p.m.  
**_I'll always be back for more of _that_ motion. I'm all out of rhymes. Or words of any kind, really. I need a ciggie too, and that's saying something._

**1:53 p.m.  
**Speechless is good. I'll join you_._

It's a good thing I made dinner reservations at the Club tonight. I have the feeling we'll be starving by then.

**1:55 p.m.  
**_You sure that's where you want to go? We don't have to go back to that place._

**1:57 p.m.  
**No, I'm sure. I never let Donnelly keep me out before, so I'm not about to start now. I have some great memories there. Tonight, we'll make a new one.

_**1:59 p.m.  
**__Sounds like a plan. See you tonight. Love you. So much._

**2:00 p.m**.  
Back atcha, Beautiful.

* * *

**The Diary of Bella and Edward  
**_**February 14 (cont'd.)**_

**11:37 p.m.  
**Can't sleep. Can't shut off my brain. Thinking . . . Wondering.

You really thought that jewelry box contained a ring, didn't you?

You're right, maybe I did that on purpose. Maybe it was a test. But in my defense, you've mentioned at least a couple of times that you wished you had real diamonds for your second ear-piercings. And you know how much I love filling your . . . never mind.

Anyway, the fact that the earrings came in that small velvet box with the rounded corners was merely a coincidence.

Okay, it's true, I wanted to see your reaction. Your _real_ reaction, when I put you on the spot. So I'd know how nervous you really are at the idea of the "M" word.

We dance around the subject constantly, every time we talk about moving in together. I, for one, can't wait until your lease runs out in May. We're together most of the time anyway, so I doubt it'll be much different than the way we're already living. I already think of everything I own as yours, too.

I'm all in, Bella. All the way. You, me, forever. You know that. But the best part of today is that now, I know you're all in, too.

Not that I've ever doubted what you tell me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it, deep in my bones. I really don't need words, or rings, or blessings from God or our parents or anyone else. But I'd still like them, eventually.

I figured I'd see relief flood your face at the sight of those earrings, and I was right. But then, for just a split second, I saw a flicker of the very emotion I was hoping against hope that I'd see:

Disappointment.

Go ahead and deny it, but I know the truth. I saw it. I felt it ripple through you while you mustered that sweet smile and said, "They're beautiful."

You wished the gift had been more. You wanted it to be more.

And it _is_ more, Bella. So much more. I know for sure now that it's only stage fright holding you back - some residual, irrational fear of commitment gone wrong, like it did for your parents. We're not them - it won't be like that for us.

But I don't need to convince you of that. I saw everything I needed to see tonight. So the next time I give you that ubiquitous velvet box with the rounded corners, you won't have to wonder what's inside.

You'll know.

P.S. I'm not sure I thanked you enough for your Valentine gift to me. Those flavored massage oils were a very inspired choice. The cinnamon one made me feel warm in all the right places. Seemed to work just as well on you, too, and it tasted divine . . . as if you weren't already sugar and spice and everything nice.

I love you. Happy Valentine's day, Bella.

_**February 15**_

**7:00 a.m.  
**_Edward. Did you really need to see that flash of disappointment to prove that I want to spend the rest of my life with you? I thought you knew me better than that._

_You do know me better. You said so yourself. There's nothing I want more. Yet I'll still be nervous whenever that question-popping moment arrives, but not because I'm unsure._

_I'll be nervous because you still give me butterflies._

_And goose-bumps, and wobbly knees, and a heart that skips and races and pounds in my chest and my ears. You are still a constant source of excitement for me, every bit as much as you are a source of comfort. I still feel that tremor of anticipation every time I'm about to see you, or when you look at me with hunger in your eyes even though you've already had me a hundred times before. I know that look, and I return it, because I recognize the feeling, the urge. I know I will never get enough of you._

_I suppose the butterflies will calm down one day, but they'll never be stilled completely. With you, the thrill will never be gone. I'll feel it for every milestone of our lives - the days you ask me all the important questions, and the days I answer them._

_So if I'm shaky or sweaty or queasy or downright nauseous, don't ever let that stop you. That's just the butterflies going crazy because of how badly I want it - how badly I want _you_._

_I love you, Edward. And I love your Valentine present to me, for everything that it is and everything that it isn't . . . yet. I'll probably never take these diamonds out of my ears, you know. They'll be good practice for any other forever-jewelry that you might wish to bestow upon me. I promise you won't be disappointed in my reaction, or my answer._

_I'm all in, Edward. All the way._

_You. Me._

_Forever._

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed a bit of Valentine fluff. Happy Valentine's Day to you all!**

**I've been keeping busy writing a new fic. When I have more completed, I'll start posting it here. Stay tuned!**

**I've also written my first-ever one-shot, which I've submitted in a contest. If you'd like to read the entries, check out the Truly Anonymous Twilight One-Shot Picture and Prompt Contest at http : / / inficted . net / (just close up all the spaces.) Stories will be posted on February 14 and voting begins March 1. Please don't Tweet or blog about any individual stories, or they could get disqualified. It's a truly anonymous contest so every author has the same chance of winning. Just read and vote for your favorites!**


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